iRIMAC 


L    Kj         J..    XX  £l' 


f    \-r 


GEORGE   H.  LUCE 


D 

919 
L92 


Q02.CC> 


} 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE. 


A   CHRONICLE 


OF 


4  VISIT  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD 


After  a  Residence  of  Thirty-Five  Years  in  tlje  New, 


BY  THE  LATE 

GEORGE  H.  LUCE, 

Of  Honolulu. 


MILWAUKEE,  WIS. : 
THE  YOUNG  CHURCHMAN  COMPANY. 

1889. 


KING,  POWLE  &  CO,,  PRINTERS, 
MILWAUKEE. 


PREFACE. 


THE  narrative  of  "our  pilgrimage"  needs  no  paragraph  in- 
troductory to  those  readers  who  have  enjoyed  the  privilege 
of  knowing  its  writer.  Some  of  them  in  Honolulu  have  heard 
its  recital  by  the  dear  and  honoured  friend  whose  absence 
they  mourn,  but  whose  kind  memory  requires  no  cenotaph  for 
its  preservation.  Its  words  are  an  unchanged  transcript  from 
the  "  pilgrim's  "  journal ;  but,  except  to  those  who  remember 
his  reading  of  it,  this  printed  record  will  but  poorly  indicate 
the  poetic  ardour,  the  artist's  enthusiasm,  and  the  affectionate 
loyalty  to  his  native  land,  which  characterized  the  writer. 

In  1885,  after  an  absence  of  thirty-six  years  from  England, 
during  most  of  which  time  he  had  resided  in  Honolulu,  he 
realized  a  long-cherished  project  by  setting  out  with  his  wife 
for  a  visit  to  their  native  country  ;  and  this  chronicle  abounds 
with  expression  of  the  earnest  and  observant  interest  in  all 
around  him  with  which  he  made  the  journey.  He  died  on 
February  28, 1888,  a  little  more  than  two  years  after  his  return. 

Mr.  Luce  was  a  trustee  of  the  Anglican  mission  in  Hawaii, 
from  the  time  of  its  formation  in  1866,  and  a  member  of  the 
Cathedral  Building  Committee.  He  held  offices  of  trust  under 
five  successive  Hawaiian  Kings,  and  in  1885  received  the 
decoration  of  the  Eoyal  order  of  Kalakaua. 

A  man  of  refined  literary  taste  and  much  reading,  his  con- 
versation was  delightful  to  those  who  were  privileged  by  his 
friendship ;  his  life,  quiet  and  unpretentious,  was  that  of  a 


PREFACE. 


Christian  gentleman.  His  high  integrity  and  unselfish  kindness 
of  heart  made  him  respected  and  beloved  by  those  amongst 
whom  he  dwelt,  native  and  foreign,  and  the  warm  and  sunny 
hospitality  of  his  household  will  long  be  remembered  by  many 
a  visitor  to  these  shores. 

Honolulu,  February,  1889. 

THE  END. 

The  chronicle  closes  as  it  was  left  by  its  author.  His  failing 
health  prevented  his  completing  the  record  by  narrating  his 
return  from  San  Francisco  to  his  home  in  Honolulu,  where  he 
was  warmly  welcomed,  and  where  his  memory  will  long  be 
dear. 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE. 


A  Chronicle  of  a  Visit  to  the  Old  World  after  a 
Residence  of  35  Years  in  the  New. 


ON  a  bright  sunny  first  of  April — ominous  day,  as  some 
of  our  friends  thought — we  left  Honolulu  in  the  good 
ship  "Alameda,"  Captain  Morse,  on  our  pilgrimage  to  the 
dear  old  land  of  our  birth,  after  an  absence  of  thirty-six 
years — more  than  half  the  span  allotted  to  man  by  the 
psalmist.  But  we  had  an  object  in  view,  of  which  I  will 
tell  you  hereafter,  and,  in  spite  of  the  rending  of  cherished 
ties,  we  went  on  our  way  rejoicing. 

Many  kind  friends  came  to  bid  us  God-speed,  and, 
according  to  the  pleasant  custom  of  this  pleasant  land, 
where  we  had  spent  so  many  happy  years,  garlanded  us 
profusely  with  leis  of  fragrant  "  maile "  and  roses,  your 
humble  servant  being  the  recipient  of  a  higher  honor,  of 
which  more  when  we  meet.  As  we  moved  off  from  the 
wharf,  lined  with  much-loved  and  well-known  faces,  the 
Royal  Band  played  the  noble  anthem  that  ever  stirs  a  Brit- 
isher's heart,  be  he  where  he  may.  Much  waving  of  hand- 
kerchiefs, I  fear  a  few  silent  tears,  and  sp  past  the  lighthouse, 


6  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

out  through  the  well-known  channel,  into  the  vast  Pacific. 
Diamond  and  Koko  Heads,  with  each  familiar  landmark, 
were  quickly  astern ;  and  as  the  shades  of  night  were  clos- 
ing round  us  I  must  confess  that  we  began  to  feel  we  were 
very  lonely,  and  to  wonder  at  our  own  temerity  in  under- 
taking so  long  a  journey.  But  we  plucked  up  our  spirits, 
and  took  comfort  in  the  anticipation  of  the  pleasures  we 
hoped  to  find  at  the  other  end;  nor  were  we  disappointed. 
We  were  not  a  large  party  of  voyagers,  but  a  very  soci- 
able one ;  and  we  shall  never  forget  the  kindness  we  re- 
ceived from  Professor  W.,  of  Yale,  and  his  most  estimable 
wife,  and  the  pleasant  social  intercourse  never  to  be  for- 
gotten by  us  that  we  enjoyed  with  them.  Our  genial 
captain's  smiling  face  was  always  refreshing  to  see ;  even 
if  the  sea  was  washing  in  through  the  side-ports  or  the 
crockery  fetching  way  on  the  dinner  table,  he  managed  to 
make  things  go  smoothly  with  a  pleasant  word  or  joke 
and  put  us  all  in  good  humour,  sometimes  no  easy  matter 
at  sea,  especially  on  this  so-called  Pacific.  What  a  misno- 
mer 'tis ;  what  were  the  early  voyagers  thinking  of?  I 
know  it  pretty  well  from  Lat.  59°  south  to  Lat.  59°  north, 
from  the  American  coast  to  the  Asiatic,  and  more  than 
once  have  thought  it  would  be  better  named  the  Terrific. 
Ah,  well,  the  sea  anywhere  is  a  strange  place  to  go  to  for 
pleasure,  and  few  but  of  the  unimaginative  Anglo-Saxon 
race  seek  it  there.  We  had  a  stormy  passage,  with  heavy 
sea  and  the  ship  rolling  about  a  good  deal.  Good  Friday 
and  Easter  day  both  passed  unnoticed,  although  we  had 
two  ministers  of  the  gospel  on  board;  but  I  suppose  the 
troubled  waters  were  too  much  for  them.  On  the  afternoon 
of  the  8th,  in  the  midst  of  a  thunderstorm,  we  entered  the 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  7 

Golden  Gates,  through  which  so  many  thousands  have 
gone  with  high  hopes  and  returned  with  them  all  blasted, 
or  not  at  all,  others  more  fortunate  finding  an  El  Dorado 
in  this  glorious  land. 

How  different  the  scene  that  meets  you  now,  to  my 
first  experience  of  it  on  the  10th  of  July,  1848,  when  I 
arrived  there  from  Sitka  all  unconscious  of  the  wondrous 
discovery  of  gold  made  accidentally  while  digging  a  mill- 
race  but  a  few  weeks  previously  at  Sutter's  Fort,  on  the 
Sacramento  river — a  discovery  which  well-nigh  changed 
the  commerce  of  the  world,  and  gave  birth  to  the  magnifi- 
cent fleet  of  clipper  ships  of  which  the  "  Sovereign  of  the 
Seas,"  "  Typhoon,"  etc.,  were  the  types.  In  those  days  a 
lonely  ocean,  no  pilots,  no  lights,  no  buoys,  I  had  almost 
said  no  charts — in  faith,  they  were  very  imperfect,  and  I 
know  the  Farralones  (I  had  been  in  and  out  several 
times  before  I  saw  them  at  all)  and  Blossom  rocks  were 
terrible  bugbears  to  me.  Inside  the  heads  a  few  vessels 
deserted  by  all  hands,  and  amongst  them  one  whaling 
bark  with  both  anchors  down  but  sails  loose  and  unfurled , 
drifting  up  and  down  the  bay  with  the  ebb  and  flow  of 
the  tide.  About  a  mile  of  mud-flats  between  you  and  the 
shore  at  low  water,  and  when  it  was  high  water,  one  mis- 
erable little  boarded  wharf — LeidesdorfT's — about  twelve 
or  fifteen  feet  long,  to  land  at.  When  on  shore  a  few  scat- 
tered stores  and  houses,  generally  along  the  beach,  with 
little  pretension  to  streets,  one  hotel — the  "City,"  I  think — 
and  in  the  Plaza  a  long,  low,  dilapidated  adobe  building 
that  served  for  Custom  House  and  various  other  offices. 
Captain  Folsom  was  military  commandant,  and  Lieutenant 
Gilbert,  who  afterward  started  the  Alia  California,  and  was 


8  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

killed  in  a  duel,  his  second  in  command — courteous  gentle- 
men, both  of  them.  It  was  sand,  scrub  and  bushes,  with 
plenty  of  quail  in  them,  too,  almost  down  to  the  then  water 
front.  Now  magnificent  and  palatial  residences,  hotels, 
banks,  offices,  etc.,  cover  the  sand  and  the  mud  also,  show- 
ing the  power  of  gold  and  the  energy  of  a  great  people.  In 
the  days  I  speak  of  the  town  was  deserted,  save  by  a  few 
traders  ;  all  were  at  the  mines  ;  and  now  see  the  busy  cor- 
ners on  Montgomery,  Merchant,  Kearney  and  other  streets, 
whose  sites  then  were  principally  peopled  by  long-tailed 
black  birds  seeking  for  food  in  the  sand. 

But  I  must  pull  up,  or  my  memory  will  run  away 
with  me,  and  tire  you  with  the  tale  oft  told  by  abler  pens 
than  mine.  To  resume  :  We  drove  to  the  Occidental 
Hotel,  much  frequented  by  islanders,  to  whom  I  fancy 
they  pay  especial  attention  ;  it  is  certainly  a  most  comfort- 
able hostelry,  with  excellent  table,  and  all  that  the  most 
exacting  of  mortals  could  desire.  I  will  not  enlarge  on 
San  Francisco,  with  its  busy  marts  and  streets,  nor  on  the 
contrast  it  now  presents  to  the  comparative  solitude  I 
once  knew  as  Yerba  Buena.  But  in  passing  I  will  say  it 
is,  I  think,  the  most  cosmopolitan  city  in  the  world,  with 
about  200,000  inhabitants,  from  almost  every  country 
under  the  sun,  as  a  ride  in  any  of  their  most  excellent 
street  tram-cars  would  show  you,  for  a  more  polyglot  set 
of  passengers  it  is  impossible  to  imagine,  and  English  is 
certainly  not  predominant.  Should  fate  ever  take  you 
there,  mind  you  go  to  the  Golden  Gate  part,  once  a  desert 
of  ever-shifting  sand  hills,  now  a  noble  park  with  drives, 
groves  and  conservatories,  and  beautifully  laid  out;  also, 
to  the  Cliff  House  for  a  grand  view  of  the  noble  bay  and 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD   WORLD.  9 

ocean,,  not  forgetting  the  Seal  rocks,  almost  at  your  feet, 
with  many  monstrous  denizens — from  whom  they  are 
named— disporting  on  them,  and  myriads  of  sea  birds 
mixing  their  plaintive  cries  and  screams  with  the  deep 
bellowing  of  the  sea  lions.  You  will  not  forget  the  scene 
in  a  hurry,  especially  if  there  be  a  brisk  breeze  blowing, 
and  the  sea  rushing  furiously  on  the  rocks.  I  trust  the 
authorities  will  interfere  to  prevent  the  erection  of  a 
bridge  from  the  shore  to  the  rocks,*  as  seems  to  be  con- 
templated, and  so  the  consequent  driving  away  of  their 
present  occupants.  It  would  be  an  awful  act  of  vandal- 
ism. We  met  many  of  our  old  island  friends,  and  with 
the  traditional  "Aloha "  all  we  Kamaainas  have  for  each 
other,  enjoyed  their  society  very  much  and  received  great 
kindness  and  assistance  at  their  hands.  And  be  sure 
we  felt  it,  too,  for  you  must  bear  in  mind  our  usual  lotos- 
eating  sort  of  existence,  and  almost  ignorance  of  the  man- 
ners and  customs,  as  well  as  the  hurry  and  bustle,  of  the 
busy  world. 

Friday,  10th,  at  3  p.  m.,  we  left  San  Francisco  by  ferry 
for  Oakland,  which  is  a  fine  flourishing  town  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  bay,  and  starting  point  of  the  Central  Pacific 
Railway.  It  has  many  charming  suburban  residences,  of 
which  some  are  owned  by  San  Franciscans,  the  frequent 
trips  of  the  large  steam  ferry-boats  making  it  almost  a  part 
of  that  city.  Please  to  forgive  me,  0  ye  Oaklanders,  jeal- 
ous for  the  honor  of  your  pretty  town.  We  took  the  cars 
in  a  depot  close  to  the  ferry,  in  fact  built  on  piles,  as  is  this 
part  of  the  track.    M.  did  not  like  it  at  all,  and  shut  her 


*  Note. — This  has  been  prevented. 


10  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

eyes  while  passing  over  it.  A  couple  of  miles  or  more  from 
shore,  should  they  ever  give  way,  oh  !  Here  we  begin 
our  long  transcontinental  journey.  Nothing  very  notable 
in  the  country  we  were  rushing  through,  or  the  sluggish, 
muddy  River  Sacramento  along  whose  banks  we  sped. 
But  about  5  p.  m.,  at  Benecia,  something  notable  to  me 
and  characteristic  of  our  energetic  kinsmen  certainly  did 
occur.  Without  any  fuss  or  bother,  smoothly  and  quietly, 
so  that  you  hardly  knew  it,  the  whole  train  with  its  bag- 
gage cars,  etc.,  was  put  on  board  a  huge  steam  ferry-boat, 
and  carried  across  the  mighty  river  to  its  right  bank.  On 
without  delay,  and  at  7  p.m.  the  lights  of  the  city  of  Sacra- 
mento, capital  of  the  Golden  State,  were  twinkling  around 
us,  sparkling  in  the  river,  and  stretching  in  long  vistas  far 
away.  On  again,  during  the  night  ascending  the  western 
slopes  of  the  Sierra  Nevada.  What  a  pity,  and  to  us  a 
disappointment,  to  miss  the  noble  scenery  of  the  moun- 
tains and  the  terrific  grandeur  of  the  precipice  called  Cape 
Horn,  round  which  the  track  lies.  Add  to  this  the  stifling 
atmosphere  of  the  cars  while  passing  through  the  snow- 
sheds,  kept  almost  at  boiling  heat  by  the  colored  gentle- 
men who  act  as  porters  and  love  the  warmth,  for  the  air 
grows  keen  as  we  ascend  among  the  snows  ;  then,  too,  the 
jarring  and  shaking  of  the  train,  especially  to  us  unused 
to  travel,  and  you  may  fancy  we  did  not  get  much  sleep, 
and  hailed  with  delight  the  coming  day.  Beds  and  their 
paraphernalia  put  away,  what  a  glorious  freshness  to  step 
out  on  the  platform  of  your  car,  see  the  snowy  summits 
of  the  Sierras  behind  you,  and  the  turbulent,  dashing 
Truckee  river  rushing  along  to  the  northward  almost  be- 
side you  to  its  bourne  in  Paradise  lake,  and  final  loss 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  11 

in  the  sinks  of  the  Humboldt,  in  the  Great  American 
Desert.  We  had  not  seen  snow  for  many  years,  except 
at  great  distances  on  the  Cascade  range  in  Oregon, 
Mounts  Baker  and  Hood,  or  our  own  grand  Maunakea  or 
Maunaloa ;  and  we  drank  in  long  draughts  of  the  fresh 
morning  air  so  invigorating  to  us  after  our  "  stuffy  night." 
Should  I  ever  travel  that  way  again  I  trust  the  cars  will 
go  through  by  daylight,  as  I  understand  was  once  the 
case.  Of  course  being  obliged  to  close  all  apertures  in 
order  to  prevent  the  entrance  of  smoke  and  ashes  while 
passing  through  the  long  line  of  snowsheds  is  one  great 
cause  of  the  discomfort.  But  why,  oh  why,  heat  them 
up  to  212°  or  thereabouts  ?  The  summit  of  the  range  is 
attained  at  Soda  Spring,  6,749  feet  above  sea  level,  about 
3:30  a.  m.,  but  so  good  has  been  the  engineering,  and  so 
gradual  the  ascent  you  do  not  realize  that  you  have 
passed  over  a  mighty  range  of  hills,  or  around  the  terrible 
precipices  of  Cape  Horn,  2,000  feet  deep  ;  the  only  thing 
to  be  said  in  favor  of  the  darkness  being  that  you  did  not 
see  your  danger.  Awful  and  dangerous  as  it  may  seem 
no  accident  has  ever  occurred  here,  great  care  being 
always  exercised.  Well,  down  we  go,  and  at  6:30  a.  m. 
stop  for  breakfast  at  Reno  in  Nevada.  Here  we  begin 
to  make  our  acquaintance  with  the  sage  brush  of  which 
we  are  to  see  so  much  hereafter  in  the  alkali  desert,  but 
the  thrifty  inhabitants  are  fast  digging  it  out  and  plant- 
ing trees  and  sowing  alfalfa  in  its  place. 

We  made  short  stays  at  several  stations,  some  of  which 
were  mere  wayside  shanties,  others  more  pretentious, 
with  streets,  hotels,  churches,  and  post-office — the  nucleus 
of  perhaps  nourishing  towns.     We  saw  bands  of  Piute 


12  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

Indians  with  their  squaws  and  papooses.  They  were  in 
the  early  days  of  Californian  emigration  the  white  man's 
most  inveterate,  cruel  and  unrelenting  enemy,  ever  on  his 
track  for  robbery  and  murder,  now  subsisting  mostly  on 
his  charity  and  curiosity.  The  children  are  carried  slung 
across  their  mother's  back,  the  poor  unfortunate  little 
wretches  being  swathed  up  in  a  sort  of  box,  or  bundle, 
ornamented  with  bits  of  gaudy-coloured  cloth,  looking 
much  like  little  dirty  mummies,  and  exhibited  to  the  pas- 
sengers in  hopes  of  a  few  dimes.  The  parents,  miserable, 
degraded-looking  beings,  clad  mostly  in  dirty  coloured 
blankets,  an  occasional  "  brave  "  being  painted,  and  with  a 
bunch  of  feathers  in  a  dilapidated  hat.  Oh  Uncas,  Uncas, 
thy  glory  has  departed  ! 

We  shortly  after  noon  reached  Humboldt,  where  we 
stopped  to  lunch,  or  dine,  as  you  may  be  pleased  to  call 
it.  'Tis  quite  an  oasis  of  trees  and  grass  in  the  Great 
Nevada  Desert  we  have  been  passing  through  this  morn- 
ing, and  made  so  by  a  plentiful  supply  of  water  brought 
at  no  small  labour  and  expense  from,  I  suppose,  the  Hum- 
boldt river,  the  "  sinks "  of  which  we  passed  an  hour  or 
so  ago.  Here  we  got  a  fairly  good  meal,  with  excellent 
mountain  trout,  which  the  Indians  are  offering  for  sale  at 
many  of  the  stations. 

On  yet  the  iron  road  wends  its  way  ;  sometimes  it 
stretches  straight  as  a  dart  before  and  behind  you  into  the 
illimitable,  treeless  waste ;  at  others,  winding  in  devious 
track,  almost  doubling  on  itself,  this  being  made  necessary 
by  the  exigencies  of  the  road  when  some  spur  of  the  low, 
sterile  hills  by  which  the  desert  is  bounded  comes  near  to 
our  line  of  travel.     Behind  you  as  you  go  westward  some 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  13 

snowy  peaks  are  visible,  but  ahead  and  around,  what  a 
horrid  waste !  A  vast  plain,  in  some  places  apparently 
the  scene  of  a  late  volcanic  cataclysm  of  fire,  and  with 
huge  rocks  and  boulders  lying  scattered  about.  Then 
great  and  seemingly  endless  stretches  of  alkali  glittering 
white  in  the  sun.  Sage  brush  everywhere,  and  little  other 
sign  of  life  except  numerous  large  long-eared  rabbits,  one 
wolf  louping  along,  and  an  occasional  bird,  probably  a 
hawk,  seen  at  a  distance.  No  water  visible  except  at  the 
sinks  of  the  Humboldt,  which  look  like  a  long  chain  of 
shallow  lakes  stretching  away  to  the  horizon.  Here,  how- 
ever, were  many  water  fowl.  At  5  p.  m.  we  got  to  the 
palisades  of  the  Humboldt  river,  some  relief  from  the 
monotony  of  to-day's  travel.  At  7  p.  m.  we  stopped  at  Elko, 
a  town  of  some  size,  for  another  meal.  Here  are  hot  springs 
showing  as  high  as  185°,  and  many  Shoshone  Indians 
hanging  about  the  station.  Thence  on  through  the  night 
thankful  that  it  hides  from  us  the  hideous  desert,  with  the 
glare,  heat  and  dust  of  the  day. 

Next  morning,  Sunday,  12th,  we  were  in  Utah  Ter- 
ritory. It  was  a  glorious  sunrise,  and  the  country 
vastly  improved  in  appearance  under  the  laborious  care 
of  these  most  energetic  Mormon  people  who  have  made 
the  desert  blossom  like  a  rose.  At  7  a.  m.  crossed  the 
Bear  river,  and  soon  the  Wasatch  range  of  snowy 
mountains  came  in  sight,  with  occasional  glimpses  of 
the  Great  Salt  Lake,  the  country  improving  steadily  in 
appearance  as  we  speed  along,  villages,  snug  dwellings  and 
farms,  with  fields  divided  and  fenced,  by  hedges  of  peach- 
trees  blazing  pink  with  blossom  in  the  morning  sun.  In 
some  places  so  numerous  were  they  that  the  distant  view 


14  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

seemed  all  of  one  ruddy  hue.  What  do  they  do  with  all 
the  peaches? 

Got  to  Ogden  at  8  a.  m.  It  is  a  town  of  some  importance 
on  the  Weber  river,  just  before  its  entrance  into  the 
Great  Salt  Lake,  and  the  station  where  the  Central 
Pacific  and  Union  Pacific  Railroads  meet.'.  We  break- 
fasted here,  and  at  8:45  left  by  the  Utah  Central  Railroad 
for  Salt  Lake  City,  which  we  were  very  desirous  to  see, 
and  also  as  a  pleasant  break  and  rest  from  the  jolting  of 
the  cars.  We  got  to  the  Walker  House,  a  capital  hotel, 
with  every  modern  comfort  and  convenience,  including 
the  electric  light,  in  about  a  couple  of  hours,  and  revelled 
in  the  luxury  of  a  bath  after  our  long  and  dusty  ride. 
This  city  is  beautifully  situated  on  a  vast  plain  discov- 
ered by  the  Mormon  pioneers  in  1847,  then  no  doubt  a 
howling  wilderness,  but  a  magnificent  site  for  a  town  with 
the  Great  Salt  Lake.  They  did  not  know  it  was  so  in- 
tensely salt — flashing  in  the  morning  sun  not  many  miles 
away.  Here  they  stayed  and  commenced  to  build  their 
Zion  and  the  result  is  something  wondrous,  even  in  the 
annals  of  our  wondrous  race. 

After  a  rest  and  some  letter  writing  we  sallied  forth  on 
foot  to  see  the  town  and  the  Tabernacle  in  particular,  but 
had  not  gone  far  when  a  voice  said,  "  How-d'ye-do,  Capt'n 
L.!"  I  did  not  recognize  the  speaker,  but  M.,  whose  bump 
of  individuality  is  larger  than, mine,  did  so  at  once  as  that 
of  young  H.,  a  Honolulu  boy  whom  you  will  remember 
as  living  in  Nemanu  Valley.  We  were  mutually  pleased 
at  the  rencontre  and  had  a  pleasant  chat  over  our  sunny 
isles.  He  was  not  a  resident,  but  knew  the  city  well  and 
kindly  guided  us  to  the  Tabernacle,  which,  after  some 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  15 

waiting,  we  entered  by  a  side  door.  It  is  a  huge  building 
of  wood,  250  feet  long  by  150  feet  wide,  with  semi-circular 
ends,  the  ceiling  being  70  feet  high.  A  gallery  resting  on 
wooden  pillars  runs  around  three  sides  of  the  building, 
and  will  seat  nearly  4,000  people.  The  whole  edifice,  it  is 
said,  will  seat  more  than  13,000.  There  is  a  noble  organ  with 
orchestra  seats,  platform,  etc.,  at  the  west  end,  where  the 
bishop,  elders  and  church  dignitaries  sit.  Seen  from  the 
outside  it  has  an  undignified  appearance,  and  seems  to  be 
roofed  with  a  huge  dish  cover,  but  inside  has  a  certain  air 
of  grandeur,  especially  when  filled  with  a  vast  assemblage 
as  it  was  to-day  and  with  the  tones  of  the  great  organ 
mingling  with  the  voices  of  such  a  concourse  of  people 
"  singing  heartily  to  the  Lord."  After  the  singing  of  a 
hymn,  and  a  prayer  or  two  by  some  of  the  occupants  of 
the  platform,  commenced  the  celebration  of  the  last  sup- 
per. The  sacred  elements  were  represented  by  several 
large  plated  baskets  of  bread,  cut  into  goodly-sized  pieces, 
and  flagons  of  pure  water.  These  being  duly  blessed 
were  carried  around  to  the  vast  assemblage,  all  of  whom, 
young  and  old,  partook  thereof.  In  the  same  sitting  with 
us  were  a  family  party  of  three  generations,  grandmother, 
father  and  motherland  daughter,  whom  I  knew  at  once 
to  be  Hawaiians,  well  dressed  and  apparently  very  happy. 
During  a  pause  in  the  services  I  whispered  our  kindly 
magic  Aloba  in  the  mother's  ear.  I  wish  you  could  have 
seen  the  delighted  look  of  surprise  upon  her  honest  face. 
Afterwards  we  had  a  long  chat  about  Hawaii  nei,  and  of 
many  old  Kamaainas  now  sleeping  with  their  fathers.  They 
were  very  happy,  they  said,  and  lived  at  the  Hot  Springs 
a  few  miles  off,  where  I  should  have  liked  to  go  had  time 


16  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

permitted  it.  Services  over.  Elder  J.  I.  Carne,  delegate 
to  Washington,  and  just  returned  from  thence,  gave  an 
account  of  his  mission.  He  seemed  to  think  they  were 
very  hardly  treated  by  the  American  government,  and 
were  a  very  ill-used  people.  He  is  an  eloquent  speaker, 
and  said  much  in  defence  of  the  doctrine  of  polygamy, 
during  his  address  making  one  startling  proposition,  viz., 
that  "  prejudice  is  the  child  of  education !"  This  he 
explained  by  saying  that  "  Gentiles,  having  been  educated 
in  the  narrow  doctrines  of  monogamy,  were  prejudiced 
against  their  wider  views."  Quite  right  and  conclusive 
from  his  standpoint.  The  congregation  were  a  well- 
dressed,  comfortable  looking  body  of  people,  as  indeed  are 
most  of  the  population  of  this  city.  And  yet  there  is  an 
indefinable  look  of  care  and  anxiety  on  most  faces, 
particular^  of  the  women  ;  but  this  I  think  is  a  trait  of 
most  of  the  Western  people,  attributable  perhaps  to  cli- 
matic influences. 

Near  by  they  are  now  building  a  very  handsome  edi- 
fice of  grey  granite  to  be  called  the  Temple,  and  to  be  used 
exclusively  for  religious  exercises  and  worship,  the  Taber- 
nacle being  used  for  meetings,  etc.,  as  well.  It  will  be  a 
very  imposing  structure  when  finished,  with  three  square 
towers  and  spires  on  each  end.  In  the  evening  we  went 
to  St.  Paul's  Episcopal  Church,  where  Bishop  Tuttle  con- 
firmed some  eight  or  ten  people. 

Next  day,  having  had,  as  M.  says,  the  first  good, 
comfortable  sleep  since  we  left,  the  sky  being  grey  and 
cloudy  with  frequent  showers,  we  got  a  carriage  and  went 
to  see  the  sights  of  the  place.  The  city  lies  at  "  the  south- 
west corner  of  the  foot  of  a  western  spur  of  the  Wasatch 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  17 

Mountains  on  the  east  bank  of  the  Jordan,  twenty  miles 
southeast  of  the  Great  Salt  Lake."  The  streets,  running 
with  the  four  points  of  the  compass,  are  very  broad,  with 
sidewalks  of  twenty  feet.  A  stream  of  water,  and  row  of 
trees,  line  each  side  of  most  of  them,  the  houses  being  sit- 
uated twenty  or  more  feet  back,  with  well-kept  gardens 
and  orchards  front  and  back.  In  the  suburbs  this  remark 
does  not  always  apply.  Some  of  the  residences  are  very 
handsome,  particularly  that  called  the  Amelia  Palace, 
which  President  Brigham  Young  built  for  his  last  and 
favourite  wife ;  the  Lion  and  Beehive  houses,  former  resi- 
dences of  the  president  and  his  family,  all  adobe  structures, 
and  well  worthy  of  a  visit,  as  is  also  the  Eagle  Gate,  and 
Zion's  Cooperative  Store,  with  its  sign  of  the  All-Seeing 
Eye  and  "Holiness  to  the  Lord."  There  are  many  fine 
public  buildings — as  City  Hall,  Theatre,  Assembly  Hall, 
Banks,  etc. ;  in  fact,  it  is  a  great  wonder  in  a  great  wilder- 
ness. Spite  of  the  rain,  we  drive  up  to  the  Military 
Station,  beautifully  situated  on  a  hill  at  the  back  of  the 
town.  Here  are  large  barracks  for  both  infantry  and 
cavalry,  excellent  quarters  for  the  officers,  and  a  battery  of 
field  pieces  commanding  the  town.  The  view  is  magnifi- 
cent— the  city  at  your  feet,  with  one  street,  as  our  driver 
was  pleased  to  tell  us,  stretching — hold  your  breath — 
thirty  miles  in  a  straight  line  to — I  don't  know  where  ! 
Snowy  mountains  surrounding  two-thirds  of  the  land- 
scape, and  the  Great  Salt  Lake  in  the  distance  in  front. 
I  thought  I  should  like  to  be  an  officer  in  the  army  of  the 
United  States,  and  live  here. 

Returning,  we  saw  the  burial  place  of  Brigham  Young 

and  of  several  of  his  wives.     That  of  the  former  is  covered 
2 


18  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

by  a  vast  mass  of  granite,  in  one  block,  and  weighing  so 
many  tons  that  I  do  not  see  how  they  could  have  got  it 
there.  But  everything  seems  possible  to  these  people.  I 
do  not  want  to  tire  you,  and  yet  I  must  tell  you  something 
of  the  Great  Salt  Lake.  It  is  a  vast  body  of  intensely  salt 
water  some  seventy  miles  long  by  thirty  miles  wide,  with  an 
average  depth  of  seven  or  eight  feet ;  there  are  several  large 
islands  in  it  near  the  center,  but  no  living  things  in  it 
except  microscopic  life.  There  are  several  places  of  bath- 
ing resort,  much  frequented  in  the  summer,  and  one  good 
thing  is  that,  even  if  you  are  not  a  swimmer,  you  cannot 
drown — unless  determined  to  do  so — for  you  cannot  sink. 
There  are  on  the  lake  a  small  steamboat  and  numerous 
little  sailing  yachts.  The  lake  was  discovered  and 
described  by  Colonel  Fremont  in  1843,  but  I  fancy  the 
Mormons  were  unaware  of  its  existence  when  it  broke  on 
their  astonished  eyes.  We  are  glad  we  came  to  this  beau- 
tiful city,  with  its  wealth  of  trees  and  flowers,  and  promise 
of  the  wealth  of  fruit  to  come. 

After  another  good  night's  rest  we  left  at  7:30  a.  m.  for 
Ogden  to  meet  the  Eastern-bound  express,  having  tele- 
graphed the  day  before  for  "  sleepers."  Just  before  we 
got  to  Ogden  we  saw  a  heavy  squall  of  wind  and  rain 
coming  from  off  the  lake,  and  arrived  at  the  depot  just  in 
the  height  of  it,  to  find  all  the  Pullmans  full,  and  no  place 
secured  for  us  spite  of  my  yesterday's  telegram.  I  was 
an  angry  man,  for  I  was  wet  through  running  about  in  the 
miserable  uncovered  station — and  I  fear  I  said  so  in  very 
unmistakable  language.  But  there  was  no  help  for  it,  and 
so  with  a  promise  of  a  "  sleeper "  at  Granger  we  were 
forced  to  get  into  a  second-class  coach,  wet  as  I  was — and, 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  TEE  OLD  WORLD.  19 

mind  you,  we  had  paid  first-class  fare — the  coach  full  to 
overflowing  with  a  rough  lot  of  Mormon  men,  women  and 
children   going — I   don't  kuow   where.      The   cars    were 
abominably  stuffy  and  crowded,  and  I  caught  a  bad  cold, 
being  in  my  wet  clothes ;  but  minor  troubles  were  soon 
forgotten  in  the  magnificent  scenery  of  the  Weber  Canyon, 
in  the  Wasatch  range.     Here  the  road  winds  in  and  out, 
as  it  is  forced  to  do  by  the  formation  of  the  canyon,  and 
you  have  the  Weber  river  first  on  one  side  of  you  and 
then  the  other,  crossing  it  often  in  your  passage  through 
the  defile.    Grand  rocks  of  reddish-coloured  stone  are  tow- 
ering above,  noticeable  among  which  are  the  weird  forms 
of  the  witches,  dark,  grey  masses  seeming  to  confer  together; 
the  range  called  Battlement  Rocks,  and  the  towering  bluff 
called  Eagles'  Nest,  where,  I  am  told,  the  eagles  build  every 
year.     Further  on,  the  Devil's  Slide,  a  curious,  slate-look- 
ing formation  cropping  out  of  the  hill-side  and  running  in 
two  parallel  ledges  from  a  height  of  800  feet  down  into  a 
pool  of  water  at  the  foot.     Soon  we  come  to  the  Thousand- 
mile  tree,  a  pine  with  a  board  on  one  of  its  branches,  pro- 
claiming the  distance  to  be  traveled  ere  you  reach  Omaha. 
We  are  now  about  870  miles  from  San  Francisco,  and  will 
soon  enter  the  Echo  Canyon,  another  wondrous  valley,  in 
places  almost  a  gorge,  with  the  strangest,  wildest  forms  of 
rocks  and  pinnacles  on  all  sides  of  us,  and  snowy  peaks, 
grand  in  their  desolation  on  either  hand,  at  short  distances 
from  us. 

Speeding  along,  if  I  may  use  the  term,  for  our  rate  is 
seldom  more  than  twenty  miles  an  hour,  at  4:30  p.  m.  we 
arrived  at  Granger,  in  Wyoming  Territory,  and,  to  our 
great  delight,  got  a  "sleeper,"  and  I  was  able  to  change 


20  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

my  clothes.  I  think  our  late  companions  branched  off 
here  to  the  northward.  Beautiful  scenery  all  the  way 
with  buttes  and  bluffs,  reminding  me  much  of  some  of 
the  country  near  Kahuku,  but  on  a  vaster  scale.  Leaving 
behind  us  the  distant  snow-clad  peaks,  north  and  south 
of  Uintah,  and  Wind  and  River  ranges,  glittering  in  the 
westering  sun,  we,  at  6:30,  arrived  at  and  crossed  Green 
river  over  a  trestle  bridge  of  great  length.  The  river  was 
now  full  to  its  utmost  banks  from  the  melting  snows,  trees 
and  bushes  marking  its  course  as  it  flows  southward  to 
the  Colorado.  Oh  !  how  the  souls  of  former  emigrants, 
leaving  behind  the  vast,  arid,  treeless  plains  that  are  ahead 
of  us,  must  have  been  gladdened  on  seeing  this  lovely  river. 
Dined  here,  and  very  good  the  dinner  was  ;  I  never  ate  a 
better  beefsteak,  and  I  could  not  help  telling  our  buxom- 
looking  hostess — evidently  our  country  woman — that  I 
thought  so.  All  the  waiters  were  girls — I  did  not  see  a 
man  about  the  place — and  swiftly  and  deftly  they  did 
their  work.  But  it  was  curious  to  note  how  marked  was 
the  Celt,  Scandinavian,  or  Anglo-Saxon  in  each  bonnie 
face.  What  a  treat  after  the  coloured  waiter  of  the  great 
hotel  to  be  attended  to  by  these  quiet  and  unobtrusive 
damsels  !  The  former  is  a  capital  fellow  as  porter  in  a  rail- 
way car  or  steward  of  a  ship  ;  but  save  me  from  him  when 
black-coated  and  white-neck-tied  in  a  big  hotel !  In  pay- 
ing my  bill  I  gave  our  hostess  a  three-dollar  American 
gold  piece;  she  said  she  should  keep  it,  as  she  had  never 
seen  one  before.  Well,  on  our  return  to  the  islands,  she 
showed  it  to  me,  but  alas,  there  was  a  man  beside  her 
now !  I  trust  the  old  serpent  has  not  entered  into  their 
Eden.     From  Echo  Canyon,  I  suppose,  we  must  say  that 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  21 

.we  have  really  begun  the  ascent  of  the  Rocky  Mountains; 
we  have  now  vast  stretches  of  country  ahead  and  around 
us,  with  a  good  deal  of  snow  on  both  sides  of  the  track, 
and  the  air  outside  is  decidedly  cool. 

Wednesday,  15th,  day  breaks  on  the  seemingly  bound- 
less prairie,  and  we  are  still  ascending  the  mighty  range. 
At  7:20  a.  m.  breakfast  at  Laramie — the  most  important 
town  in  the  Rockies,  with  a  garrison  at  Fort  Laramie,  not 
far  off — girl  waiters  again,  and  at  8:40  we  are  at  Sherman, 
the  highest  point  on  the  line,  being  8,235  feet  above  sea 
level,  and  yet  no  ascent  apparent  to  us.  True,  we  have 
been  travelling  for  days  at  an  elevation  of  from  4,500  feet 
to  6,000  feet.  What  a  tftat  it  is  to  get  out  of  the  train, 
with  its  smell  of  smoke  and  heated  atmosphere,  and  have 
a  brisk  walk  to  and  fro  on  the  platform  of  the  station, 
drinking  in  long  draughts  of  the  clear,  invigorating 
mountain  air,  and  feeling  the  blood  quicken  in  your 
veins  with  the  exercise !  But,  mind  you,  put  your  over- 
coat on  or  you  may  take  cold  in  the  thin,  bracing  air  of 
these  high  regions  after  the  heat  of  the  cars.  At  several 
of  the  stations  where  we  have  lately  stopped  for  meals 
were  fine  trophies,  composed  of  the  horns  of  elk,  ante- 
lope and  deer,  showing  that  game  was  once  plentiful;  now 
I  fancy  it  is  scarce.  We  saw  none,  and  only  on  one  occa- 
sion, I  think,  had  venison  on  the  dinner  table.  No  loss — 
give  me  beef. 

Travelling  had  been  smoother  and  pleasanter  since  leav- 
ing Ogden,  either  from  a  better  laid  track  or  from  our 
becoming  more  used  to  it.  To  relieve  the  monotony  of 
some  part  of  the  journey,  our  porter  used  to  put  the  table 
up  and  we  indulged  in  an  occasional  game  of  bezique. 


22  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

Much  interest  was  taken  in  it  by  our  fellow-passengers,  to 
whom  it  was  evidently  new,  euchre  being  the  universal 
game. 

What  strange  specimens  of  humanity  you  meet  with 
here  !  But  I  am  pleased  to  say  that  we  always  met  with 
the  greatest  kindness,  consideration  and  courtesy  from  "all 
sorts  and  conditions  of  men  "  that  fate  threw  in  our  way, 
perhaps  because  we  were  old  folks  and  "  pilgrims  " — any- 
how, the  fact  remains.  The  pistol-carrying,  hard-drink- 
ing, gambling  bully  we  never  came  across ;  I  fancy  he  is 
of  the  past.  Most  of  our  fellow-travellers  seemed  honest, 
self-reliant  men,  and  we  never  heard  an  oath,  or  saw  a 
drunken  man  in  all  the  West,  j^rue,  hanging  about  the 
platforms  at  some  of  the  stations,  mingling  with  the  In- 
dians, and  an  occasional  soldier  or  two,  may  be  seen  some 
hard -looking  characters  ;  but  that  you  must  expect  in  all 
new  countries.  One  little  incident,  I  think,  I  must  tell 
you.  M.  got  into  conversation  with  a  fine,  big,  honest- 
looking  fellow,  who  told  her  he  was  going  East  to  see  his 
old  mother,  after  twenty-five  years  of  absence.  He  had 
left  her'  a  mere  lad,  and  gone  out  into  the  far  West  to 
seek  his  fortune,  and  was  now  going  to  gladden  the  old 
woman's  declining  years.  Fortune  had  been  kind  to  him, 
and  he  had  left  behind  at  his  comfortable  home  u  the 
best  wife  in  the  world,"  a  fine  family  of  boys  and  girls,  a 
noble  ranch,  and  vast  herds  of  cattle.  M.  said :  "You 
must  be  very  thankful  for  all  these  good  things."  "No, 
marm  ;  not  thankful,  but  proud  !"  was  the  answer.  Still 
M.  reiterated  her  views,  and  still  came  the  same  response 
— "  not  thankful,  but  proud."  Who  can  tell  the  secret 
springs  of  the  human  heart? 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  23 

But  I  must  move  on,  for  if  I  stop  too  long  at  this  great 
altitude  you  will  be  getting  cold.  Now  we  begin  to  descend 
rapidly  the  eastern  slope  of  the  mountains,  and  I  cannot 
help  feeling  every  moment  as  if  I  must  see  the  sea  ahead  : 
and  so  we  do— not  "old  ocean,"  but  a  vast,  rolling  sea  of 
prairie  stretching  onward  before  us.  At  2:25  p.  m.  we  got  a 
very  bad  dinner  at  Sydney,  in  Nebraska — men  waiters. 
Here  again  fine  trophies  of  elk,  deer,  and  antelope  horns ; 
but  the  day  has  passed  when  passengers  by  train  used  to 
fire  at  them  and  the  buffalo  as  they  went  along.  We  saw 
many  burrows  of  the  prairie  dog,  but,  as  it  had  com- 
menced to  rain,  the  little  occupants  wisely  kept  in-doors. 
On  our  return  we  saw  lots  ol  them.  During  this  day  on 
the  vast  plains,  now  covered  sparsely  with  thin  grass, 
which  on  our  return  was  long  and  dry,  and  many  path- 
like looking — I  suppose — cattle  tracks,  we  saw  several 
parties  of  emigrants  with  their  wagons,  and  in  some  in- 
stances cattle,  going  west.  We  stop  at  several  insignifi- 
cant stations,  and  there  are  occasional  small  farms,  each 
with  its  windmill  for  raising  water.  No  doubt  this  is  a 
fine  grazing  country,  with  lots  of  stock — fat  as  we  came 
back  again  ;  but  oh  !  the  bleakness  and  loneliness  of  such 
a  sea  of  grass  rolling  apparently  in  endless  billows.  I 
fear  I  could  not  be  induced  to  live  here,  notwithstanding 
the  irequent  assurance  that  "  This  is  God's  own  country, 
sir,"  or  "The  Almighty's  pasture  grounds."  Raining 
now  pretty  cheerily,  at  8  p.  m.  crossed  the  North  Platte 
river — we  had  now  descended  more  than  5,500  feet — on  a 
long  pile  bridge.  This  river,  which  is  shallow,  and 
meanders  about  the  country  in  a  very  devious  and  uncer- 
tain sort  of  way,  covering  at  times  large  tracts,  had  an 


24  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

evil  reputation  in  the  old  emigrant  days  on  account  of  the 
ever-varying  and  shifting  quicksands  of  its  bottom,  and 
was  obliged  to  be  forded  with  great  care.  Many  a  team 
and  wagon  have  come  to  grief  in  it.  On  some  fine,  bold 
rocks  before  we  came  to  this,  we  saw  painted  in  almost 
inaccessible  places,  in  huge  letters,  "  Use  St.  Jacob's  Oil !" 
u  Smoke  somebody's  Cigarettes,"  "  Try  so-and-so's  Bitters," 
etc.  This  vile  practice  obtains  in  almost  every  place 
where  there  is  anything  of  the  grand  or  sublime  along  the 
whole  route.  During  the  night  we  had  a  terrific  thunder- 
storm ;  it  was  perfectly  magnificent  to  watch  the  lightning 
flashing  forth  and  illuminating  the  vast  expanse  around 
us,  and  then  the  boom  of  the  thunder  in  the  dense  black- 
ness over  the  apparently  boundless  space.  M.  did  not 
like  it,  but  I  felt  irresistibly  attracted  to  the  window  by 
its  awful  grandeur.  It  was  raining  too  hard  to  go  on 
the  platform. 

"  And  this  in  the  night1'— 
"  Oh  night,  and  storm,  and  darkness,  ye  are 
Wondrous  strong,  yet  lonely  in  your  strength  "— 
•  "  Not  from  one  lone  cloud  leaps  the  live  thunder  " — 
"  And  the  big  rain  comes  dancing  to  the  earth,  and  now  again  'tis  black.,, 

The  storm  continued  during  the  greater  part  of  the 
night,  and  morning  (Thursday,  16th)  broke  grey  and  dis- 
piriting-looking,  with  a  continual  drizzling  rain.  Farms 
and  homesteads  are  becoming  more  numerous  as  we  roll 
along.  We  have  passed  several  rising  towns  and  stations 
during  the  night  of  which  I  know  naught.  At  8  a.  m.  we 
got  to  Omaha,  on  the  Missouri  river.  This  is  a  city  of 
importance,  many  lines  of  railways  converging  here,  and 
with  the  mighty  river  on  its  front,  making  it  necessarily 
the  focus  of  much  traffic  from  east  to   west  and  vice  versa. 


OUR  PILGRIMA&E  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  25 

I  do  not  think   I  should  care  to  live  here   if  it   always 
looks  as  it  did  this  morning.     However,  we  had  not  much 
time    for  observation,  for   in  a  few  minutes  we  were  off 
again  over  the  huge  bridge  that  carries  the  Union  Pacific 
Railroad  across  the  turbid  stream .    This  is  a  wondrous  piece 
of  engineering  skill,   and,   previous   to   its   construction, 
passengers  and  traffic  were  carried  across  in  flat-bottomed 
steamboats,  not  always  safe  in  the  shifting  currents  and 
sand-banks  of  the  river.     It  is  an  iron  bridge,  supported 
on  immense  hollow  iron  columns  lowered  into  the  bed  of 
the  river,  and  afterwards — solid  bottom  being  obtained  by 
excavating  within  them — filled  with  stone  and  concrete. 
It  is  fifty  feet  above  high- water  mark,  and  2,750  feet  long, 
approached  by  an  embankment  at  either  end.     Not  many 
minutes  brought  us  to  Council  Bluffs,  in  Iowa,  where  we 
changed  cars  for  Chicago  via  Chicago,  Milwaukee  &  St. 
Paul  Railroad.     Here  let  me  remark  upon  the  excellent 
system  of  checking  your  heavy  baggage  right  through  to 
your  destination,  which   is  adopted   upon  the   American 
railroads ;  you  need  not  trouble  yourself  at  all  about  it, 
and  will  find  it  safely  at  your  journey's  end  on  production 
of  your   check.      With   small  hand-luggage  carried  with 
you  it  is  another  thing,  and  you  will  wisely  be  liberal  with 
your  "  tip  "  to  the  porter  of  your  car,  not  only  to  insure 
attention  while  travelling,  but  assistance  in  removing  your 
small  traps  when  changing  from  one  line  to  another,  rail- 
way porters  not  being  so  numerous  as  in  England.     Civil- 
ity  and    attention    are,    however,  the   rule   everywhere. 
Council  Bluffs,  now  an  important  town,  with  large  railway 
depot,  where  many  lines  meet,  was  not  very  many  years 
ago  the  far,  far  West,  and  received  its  name  from  a  great 


26  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

council  of  officers  of  the  United  States  Government  and 
Indian  chiefs,  held  in  its  neighborhood,  to  conclude  a 
treaty  as  to  divisions  and  occupation  of  land.  There  is 
some  very  fine  and  striking  scenery  on  either  hand  after 
you  leave  the  depot,  but  the  constant  down-pour  of  rain 
that  fell  to  our  lot  made  the  country  look  wet,  muddy, 
and  lugubrious.  Spite  of  the  still  often-repeated  assur- 
ance as  to  the  ownership  of  the  country — mentioned  before 
— I  could  not  help  thinking  it  had  rather  an  unfinished 
look.  To-day  we  had  our  first  experience  of  a  Pull- 
man dining-car,  and  an  excellent  institution  it  is.  As 
good  a  dinner  is  served  to  you,  with  "  every  delicacy  of 
the  season,"  dessert,  etc.,  for  the  very  moderate  sum  of 
seventy-five  cents — that  being  the  usual  price  paid  at  all 
refreshment  places  on  the  route  across  the  continent,  from 
San  Francisco  to  Omaha — as  you  can  obtain  in  a  first- 
class  hotel  in  any  city.  Wine  or  beer  is,  of  course,  charged 
separately. 

Many  towns  and  stations  passed,  we  were  stopped 
at  7  p.  m.  by  a  telegram  saying  there  had  been  a  land- 
slide in  a  cutting  ahead  of  us,  caused  by  the  constant 
rain,  and  that  the  track  was  blocked  from  side  to  side. 
The  same  thing  had  occurred  in  the  same  place — some- 
where in  the  neighborhood  of  Tama  City — a  fortnight 
previously.  Fortunately  our  dinner-car  was  with  us  still.- 
Between  9  and  10  o'clock  some  of  the  officials  proposed 
that  we  all  should  get  out  and  walk  a  mile  and  a  half  or 
two  miles  to  another  train  beyond  the  obstacle,  as  they 
could  not  say  when  it  would  be  cleared  away.  What  a 
pleasant  prospect  in  the  rain,  mud,  and  darkness  of  the 
night !     Upon  rejection  of  the  proposal,  with  utter  scorn 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  27 

by  some,  they  told  us  we  might  go  to  bed,  which  you  may 
depend  upon  few  lost  time  in  doing. 

At  4  a.  m.  on  Friday,  17th,  the  track  being  pronounced 
clear,  off  we  went  again.  Raining  yet,  and  it  continued 
to  do  so  all  the  livelong  day,  making  the  country  look 
water-logged,  cold,  cheerless  and  dispiriting.  The  trees 
were  not  yet  out  in  leaf,  and  M.,  mindful  of  our  perennial 
verdure,  sorrowfully  remarked  on  the  great  quantity  of 
dead  trees.  Remember  how  long  we  had  been  living  in 
eternal  summer,  and  do  not  laugh  !  The  scenery  would 
have  been  charming  had  the  weather  been  fine,  for  we 
passed  many  snug-looking  farms  and  homesteads,  steadily 
improving  in  looks  of  finish  and  comfort  as  we  went  east- 
ward. One  thing  strikes  a  stranger,  and  he  wonders  why 
they  invariably  paint  the  barns  and  out-houses  red,  and 
the  dwellings  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow,  with  green 
blinds.  In  many  cases  the  former  look  better  and  more 
substantially  built  than  the  latter,  and  I  must  confess 
astonishment  at  much  untidy  farming  and  the  dilapida- 
tion of  doors,  gates,  and  fences,  to  be  occasionally  seen. 

Crossing  the  Cedar,  Black,  Wapsacumma,  and  other 
rivers,  we,  at  10:45  a.  m.,  came  to  the  father  of  waters,  the 
mighty  Mississippi,  whither  I  suppose  they  too  were  all 
bound,  and  passed  over  a  magnificent  bridge  from  Sabula 
into  Savanna,  in  the  State  of  Illinois.  This  is  a  wondrous 
structure  of  iron — as  indeed  are  many  of  the  bridges  in 
this  land  of  big  rivers,  lakes  and  forests  ;  it  has  a  huge 
swing  opening,  working  smoothly  and  evenly  by  hydrau- 
lic power,  to  permit  the  passage  of  steamboats,  many  of 
which  we  now  see  up  or  down  the  river.  I  do  not  know 
its  length,  but,  with  the  approaches  on  either  shore,  it  is 


28  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

very  great,  and  the  train  proceeds  over  slowly  and  with 
much  care,  for  of  course  the  vibration  is  considerable — 
especially  where  the  opening,  swinging  on  its  axis,  occurs. 
On  again  at  a  good  speed,  past  towns  and  villages,  looking 
wet  and  desponding,  till  we  got  to  Elgin,  the  most  impor- 
tant we  saw.  This  is  the  great  watch  manufacturing  town, 
and  is  certainly  another  wonder.  I  heard,  but  do  not 
remember,  some  statistics  as  to  the  number  of  hands  em- 
ployed, watches  made  in  the  year,  etc. ;  but  I  know  they  all 
went  a  long  way  up  into  the  thousands,  and  the  place  is 
one  forest  of  tall  chimneys,  that  seemed  to  me  to  extend 
almost  for  miles.  There  is  now  a  marked  improvement 
in  the  houses  as  we  approach  the  queen  city  of  the  lakes, 
many  of  the  merchants  having  villas  out  this  way.  At 
3:30  p.  m.  we  arrive  at  the  Grand  Central  depot  at  Chicago, 
a  noble  building  in  which,  I  think,  all  of  the  numerous 
lines  running  to  this  city  concentrate.  Much  apparent 
bustle  and  confusion,  but,  after  a  while,  we  get  off  and  go 
to  the  Palmer  House.  This  is  a  splendid  hotel,  very  big 
and  vast,  as  everything  seems  to  be  here — making  up  850 
beds,  with  all  things  on  a  corresponding  scale — the  stair- 
case balustrades,  stairs,  and  a  balcony,  with  seats  for 
guests,  and  overlooking  the  great  central  hall  of  the  build- 
ing, being  of  white  marble.  It  is  said  to  be  fire-proof,  and 
perhaps  it  is  so.  But  oh,  the  noise  and  din  by  day  and 
night !  It  is  the  great  center  for  "  drummers,"  and  as 
there  seems  to  be  a  sort  of  exchange  in  the  hall,  is  a 
pandemonium  of  noise.  Glad  to  get  to  bed,  with  a  good, 
open  fire  in  our  room,  and,  after  a  much  disturbed  night, 
got  up  on  Saturday,  the  18th,  to  find  it  'dark,  cloudy  and 
raining  still.     This  vast  city,  although  its  creation  since 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  29 

v 

the   great  fire  is  almost  a  miracle,  failed   to   impress  us 
favorably.     It  looked  wet  and  dirty,  streets  being  badly 
kept,  and    yet  it  is   a  wonder.      There  are  many   noble 
streets   and  buildings,  but  in  the  immediate  vicinity   of 
some   of  them,   too   visible   from   our   room,  the  eye   is 
offended   by   miserable  shanties   of  wood,  covered  with 
gaudy  signs  of  various  kinds,  and  heaps  of  dirt  and  refuse 
in  the  public  ways.     I  am  told  that  some  of  the  parks  and 
suburbs   are  very  beautiful,  but   the  weather   precludes 
the  opportunity  of  seeing  them,  as  well  as  want  of  time ; 
however,  we  took  a  hack  and  saw  all  we  could.     The  place 
is,  I  am  told,  exceptionally  wet,  caused  no  doubt  by  the 
situation  on  the  great  lake ;  but  it  is  unrivalled,  for  the 
same  reason,  in  its  facilities  for  commerce.     At  4:15  p.  m. 
we  left  Chicago  by  the  Michigan  Central  Railroad,  skirt- 
ing along  the  southern  end  of  the  great  lake  of  the  same 
name.     It  was  blowing   half  a  gale  of  wind,  with   hard 
squalls  of  rain,  the  sea  breaking  heavily  with  white  caps 
of  foam   on  its  grey  waters,  and   many  large  schooners 
were  struggling   to    windward    under  short    sail.     This 
inland  sea  with  its  steamboats,  sailing  craft,  lighthouses, 
and  ports,  interested  me  much,  this  being  my  first  experi- 
ence of  such  a  scene.     Darkness  was  soon  upon  us,  and 
we  knew  naught  till  about  midnight,  when,  hearing  some 
unusual  sounds  and  bustle,  I  looked  forth,  saw  the  lights 
of  a  big  town,  and  found  from  our  porter  that  we  were 
crossing  the  Detroit  river,  at  the  town  of  the  same  name, 
from  the  United  States  into  Ontario,  Canada.     It  was  all 
done  without  any  fuss.     I  fancy  we  were  ferried  over,  and 
I  found  by  seeing  a  paper  with  the  English  crown  en- 
graved on  it  stuck  on  my  valise  next  morning,  that  our 


30  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

luggage  had  been  "  passed  "  during  the  night.  Now  we 
go  on  by  the  Canada  Southern,  a  good  line  running  along 
the  northern  shore  of  Lake  Erie.  The  travelling  is  excel- 
lent since  leaving  Chicago,  as  indeed  it  has  been  from 
Council  Bluffs. 

Day  broke  on  Sunday,  19th,  clear,  brilliant  and  invig- 
orating, but  feeling  cold  to  us,  and  we  enjoyed  it  immense- 
ly. Caught  our  first  glimpse  of  Niagara  Falls  about  7 
o'clock ;  some  of  our  fellow-travellers  had  professed  to 
hear  its  roar  long  previously,  but  our  ears  were  too  dull 
to  do  so.  Here,  at  the  station,  we  got  out.  Taking  a  hack 
and  rolling  ourselves  up  comfortably  in  the  buffalo-robes, 
of  which  every  carriage  contains  plenty,  we  were  soon  at 
Prospect  House,  a  nice — now  quiet,  for  the  season  has  not 
begun,  and  rnanj^  hotels  are  not  yet  open — comfortable 
hostelry.  It  is  quite  near  to  the  falls ;  indeed,  the  spray 
from  them  frequently  dashes  in  showers  on  the  front  ver- 
anda. I  felt  thankful  at  arriving  when  we  did,  escaping 
the  bustle  of  a  crowd  of  sight-seers,  and  getting  the  best 
rooms  in  the  house,  facing  on  the  river.  Glancing  through 
the  pages  of  the  registry-book  in  the  office,  and  seeing  the 
numerous  eminent  and  illustrious  names  in  it  made  us 
more  thankful  still,  for  what  should  we  quiet  islanders 
have  done  amongst  what  Pat  calls  "  the  loikes  of  thim  !" 
Although  the  sun  was  shining  brightly,  there  was  a  good 
deal  of  the  winter's  snow  yet  lying  about  on  all  sides,  and 
the  rocks  in  the  river  below  the  falls  were  vast,  shapeless 
masses  of  ice  from  the  spray  of  the  cataract.  I  feel  almost 
afraid  to  attempt  any  description,  this  having  been  so 
often  more  graphically  done  by  many  others  ;  but,  as  you 
want  to  know  my  impressions,  I  will  try  to  convey  them 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  31 

to  you  if  I  can,  fearing  it  will  be  but  imperfectly.  Well, 
then,  first  picture  to  yourself  a  mighty  river,  the  outlet  of 
the  three  great  lakes — Michigan,  Huron  and  Erie — about 
two-thirds  of  a  mile  wide,  and  as  you  look  up  it  from  the 
Canada  side  for  a  mile  or  more  above  the  falls,  appearing 
just  like  the  reef  at  Waikiki  inside  the  surf  when  a  heav- 
ier roller  than  usual  has  broken  and  is  running  over  the 
rocks  in  shallow  water  toward  the  beach,  only  that  it  is  of 
a  greenish  huej  instead  of  the  blue  of  the  Pacific.  We 
afterwards  saw  an  excellent  painting  of  this  in  the  Royal 
Academy  Exhibition  by  Colin  Hunter.  The  vast  volume 
of  water  is  divided  by  an  island  called  Goat's,  500  feet  in 
width,  which  is  attained  by  bridges  from  other  smaller 
islands  on  the  American  side.  The  height  of  the  cataract 
is  about  160  feet,  and  the  Horseshoe  Fall,  on  the  Canada 
side,  1,900  across,  without  a  break;  the  American  side  900 
feet  from  edge  to  edge,  but  broken  by  rocks.  The  Horse- 
shoe Fall  is,  to  me,  much  the  grander  of  the  two.  The 
awful  idea  of  irresistible  power  of  the  waters  comes,  I 
think,  more  home  to  your  mind  as  the  river  plunges  into 
the  boiling  torrent  at  the  foot  of  the  falls,  and  seems  to 
shake  the  solid  earth  on  which  you  stand.  In  fact,  while 
in  bed  in  the  quiet  of  the  night  we  felt  the  vibration  dis- 
tinctly, but  whether  of  the  earth  or  air  I  could  not  under- 
take to  say.  The  effect  of  the  sun  shining  on  and  through 
the  vast  liquid  mass  of  green  water  is  very  fine,  and  must 
be  seen  to  be  understood,  as  well  as  the  rainbow  across 
the  torrent  below  the  falls,  caused  by  the  spray  from 
them.  We  did  not  go  behind  the  falls,  as  many  do, 
wrapped  up  in  water-proof  Oiled  clothes.  M.  did  not  like 
the  idea,  but  we  saw  most  of  the  wonders  of  the  place, 


32  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

'  and  they  are  many.  Among  them  are  the  burning  springs 
through  which  gas  comes  bubbling  up  and  flickering  in  a 
blue  flame  on  the  surface  of  the  water  when  a  lighted 
paper  is  applied  to  it,  and  the  awful  whirlpool  rapids  a 
mile  or  more  down  the  river,  to  which  you  go  down 
in  a  hydraulic  sort  of  incline  that  almost  frightened 
poor  M.  out  of  her  wits.  One  great  drawback  to  the  per- 
fect enjoyment  of  the  wondrous  scene  is,  that  it  is  made 
one  "  big  show "  and  everybody  inhabiting  the  place 
seems  to  think  you  are  fair  prey,  and  stands  by  to  fleece 
you.  I  do  not  by  any  means  apply  this  remark  to  the 
hotel  at  which  we  stayed,  where  the  charges  were  mod- 
erate, and  the  people  polite  and  attentive.  There  is  a 
town  of  some  importance  on  the  American  side  with 
many  factories  of  one  kind  or  other,  our  practical  cousins 
having  utilized  the  great  stream.  Why  the  Canadians 
have  not  done  so  is  an  occult  mystery  to  me,  unless  it  be 
they  have  not  the  go-ahead itiveness  of  their  neighbors. 
Why  not  is  hard  to  say  ;  they  are  the  same  race. 

The  "  show  "  evil  of  which  I  spoke  before  has  grown 
to  very  great  excess  on  the  American  side,  and  the  State 
of  New  York  has  wisely  determined  to  buy  up  all  vested 
rights,  and  so  put  an  end  to  the  exorbitant,  frequent  and 
annoying  demands  made  on  your  purse,  and  make  a 
park  for  the  people.  I  trust  the  Canadians  will  follow  suit 
in  very  short  time,  and  so  infinitely  enhance  the  pleasures 
of  the  place.  Visitors  can  then  buy  Indian  curiosities, 
photographs,  etc.,  if  they  wish,  but  will  not  be  continually 
stopped  at  gates,  or  bridges,  with  a  demand  for  half  a 
dollar  for  entering  this  or  that  place.  And  be  sure  your 
Jehu,  who  probably  gets  a  commission,  insists  on  taking 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  33 


you  to  them  all.  We  met  here  two  gentlemen  who  were 
friends  of  our  friends  Mr.  and  Mrs.  W.,  and  very  pleasant 
it  was  to  chat  with  them  of  our  island  home,  and  "  mut- 
ual friends."  The  roar  of  the  mighty  waters  lulled  us  to 
sleep  each  night  we  stayed  here  ;  it  was  not  too  loud  to  be 
unpleasant  ;  and  the  blue  sky,  and  bright  sun  by  day, 
made  our  visit  most  enjoyable.  We  had  telegraphed  to 
our  friends  along  the  line,  and  received  answers,  and  now 
we  hear  that  the  Honorable  S.  P.,  of  Honolulu,  and  party 
will  be  here  to-morrow.  How  I  regretted  we  could  not 
stay  to  meet  them  and  have  a  chat  over  Hawaii  nei,  but 
our  arrangements  were  all  made,  and  at  8  a.  m.  on  Tues- 
day, 21st,  we  left  Niagara  with  regret,  crossing  by  the  won- 
derful suspension  bridge  below  the  falls,  and  taking  a  last, 
long,  lingering  look  at  them.  The  train  crosses  very 
slowly,  and  stops  a  few  minutes  to  give  passengers  an 
opportunity  of  seeing  the  cataract. 

We  were  now  traveling  by  the  New  York  Central  & 
Hudson  River  Railroad,  an  excellent  line,  with  much 
lovely  scenery,  among  which  we  were  particularly  struck 
by  the  beauties  of  the  valley  of  the  Mohawk.  I  cannot 
attempt  to  enumerate  the  many  fine  towns  and  stations 
we  stopped  at,  or  passed  through  on  our  route,  but  was 
much  struck  with  Rochester,  Syracuse  and  Utica.  About 
5  p.  m.  got  to  Schenectady,  and  on  the  platform  to  our 
delight  saw  our  old  friends  Mrs.  P.,  with  her  daughter 
and  her  daughter's  husband,  whom  we  had  known  as 
Lieutenant-Commander  Y.,  of  the  United  States  Navy, 
and  two  of  their  children-  How  mutually  glad  to  see 
each  other  we  were  I  need  not  dilate  on.  The  ladies  got 
into  the  train  with  us,  and  in  five  minutes'  time  we  were 


3 


34  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

off  again,  and  talking  of  old  times,  old  things,  and  old 
friends,  in  the  sunny  isles,  to  our  hearts'  content.  Oh,  it 
was  very  pleasant ! 

At  6  p.  m.,  all  too  quickly  we  felt  it,  on  our  friends' 
account,  we  arrived  at  the  noble  town  of  Albany,  founded 
by  the  early  Dutch  settlers,  and  consequently  one  of 
the  oldest  cities  in  the  United  States.  It  is  finely  sit- 
uated on  the  Hudson  river,  with  the  beautiful  suburb  of 
Green  Bush  on  the  opposite  bank.  We  parted  here  with 
our  kind  companions,  who  had  to  go  back  to  Schenectady, 
and  with  the  painful  feeling  that  we  were  leaving  them 
too  abruptly.  But  we  were  not  quite  masters  of  our  own 
movements,  and  found  awaiting  us  here  with  their  carriage 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  P.,  brother-in-law  and  sister  of  Chief  Justice 
J's  wife.  Although  strangers  to  each  other  previously,  so 
considerate  and  genial  were  they  that  in  a  very  short  time 
all  seemed  like  old  friends.  We  were  soon  on  our  way 
across  the  river  by  a  noble  swing-bridge,  which  we  saw 
open  easily  and  expeditiously,  to  afford  passage  to  a  pass- 
ing vessel,  and  arrived  at  their  handsome  villa  on  Green 
Bush  Heights,  situated  in  beautiful  grounds,  and  from 
which  you  enjoy  a  charming  view.  Our  host,  hostess  and 
family  were  more  than  kind  to  us,  and  this  evening  will 
ever  remain  as  one  of  the  green  spots  in  our  existence. 
Here  we  met  with  our  first  disappointment.  We  had  hoped 
and  planned  to  go  down  the  river  to  New  York  by  one  of 
the  splendid  day -boats  that  run  on  this  stream.  But  "  the 
best  laid  schemes  o'  mice  and  men  gang  aft  agley,"  and  as 
the  river  was  only  just  clear  of  ice,  and  the  first  day-boat 
did  not  start  until  Monday  next,  and  we  were  to  leave  New 
York  on  Saturday,  our  plan  had  very  reluctantly  to  be 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  35 

abandoned.  However,  we  did  the  next  best  thing  pos- 
sible to  ns.  Leaving  with  regret  our  kind  friends — our 
hostess  taking  us  to  the  station — we,  at  10  a.  m.  on  Wed- 
nesday, 22d,  left  by  Hudson  River  Railroad  for  New 
York.  It  was  a  lovely  morning.  All  snow7  and  ice  had 
now  disappeared,  nature  was  beginning  to  put  on  her 
vernal  array,  and  we  were  glad  to  think  that  railway  trav- 
elling was  nearly  over.  This  beautiful  river,  down  whose 
left  bank  we  are  now  rapidly  gliding  on  an  excellent  road, 
was  discovered  by  Henry  Hudson,  an  English  navigator 
then  in  the  service  of  the  Dutch  East  India  Company, 
commanding  the  good  ship  "  Half  Moon,"  A.  D.  1609.  He 
was  in  search  of  a  northwest  passage  to  "  far  Cathay,"  the 
dream  of  every  mariner  in  those  days,  and  thought  he  had 
found  it;  what  terrible  disappointment  when  he  saw  his 
error,  as  he  no  doubt  soon  did.  Many  fine  towns  with  his- 
toric and  well-known  names  are  on  its  shores,  where,  too, 
lies  the  scene  of  Arnold's  treachery  and  Andre's  fate.  The 
track  nearly  all  the  way  is  in  view  of  the  river,  with  its 
beautiful  scenery  and  many  islands.  Craft  of  all  sizes  and 
rig  are  passing  up  or  down  the  stream,  and  the  scene  is  very 
animated  and  lovely,  especially  as  we  draw  nearer  to  our 
destination.  The  Catskills  loom  up  in  distant  grandeur, 
but  the  Palisades,  I  regret  to  say,  we  could  not  get  a  good 
view  of.  Past  Peekskill,  Sing  Sing,  Tarrytown,  Yonkers, 
Harlem,  Spuyten  Duyvel,  we  at  3:30  p.  m.  arrived  at  Grand 
Central  depot  of  New  York,  and  were  soon  rolling  in  a 
hack  to  our  hotel,  the  Brevoort  House,  in  Fifth  avenue. 
The  day  had  been  warm  and  sunny  and  all  nature  looked 
gay,  as  did  the  part  of  this  fine  city  through  which  we 
passed  on  our  way  to  the  hotel.     It  was  founded  by  the 


36  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

Dutch  in  1621,  and  then  called  New  Amsterdam ;  on  its 
subsequent  capture  by  the  British,  the  name  was  changed 
to  New  York.  Being  fatigued  and  M.  suffering  from  a 
bad  cold,  we  did  not  go  out  that  night.  I  should  think 
this  must  be  a  capital  climate  for  taking  colds,  as  they 
tell  us  that  at  4  this  morning  the  thermometer  stood 
at  36°  and  at  the  same  hour  in  the  afternoon  at  86°. 
Oh,  ye  islanders,  with  your  even  temperature,  what  do 
you  think  of  that  ? 

Thursday,  the  23d,  was  a  lovely  day,  not  so  warm  as 
yesterday  had  been.  Soon  Mrs.  R.  H.,  with  her  niece, 
Mrs.  J.  B.,  called — the  latter,  you  know,  we  used  to  look  up- 
on as  almost  one  of  us,  as  L.  B.  in  the  olden  days.  How 
mutually  glad  we  were  to  see  each  other  and  how  kind 
they  were  to  us  I  need  hardly  tell  you.  We  sallied  forth 
with  them  to  see  the  sights,  the  shops,  stores  and  traffic 
of  the  city,  and  noble  thoroughfare  of  Broadway  in  par- 
ticular. What  a  change  to  us  after  our  quiet  island  life  I 
It  is  really  a  splendid  street,  but  to  assert  that  there  is 
nothing  in  the  world  to  compare  with  it,  I  do  not 
think  strictly  correct.  The  lines  commencing  from  the 
church  of  the  Madeleine,  in  Paris,  and  running  to  the 
Place  de  la  Bastille,  and  column  of  July,  or  from  the 
Gardens  of  Tuileries  to  Neuilly,  are,  I  think,  finer.  And 
in  London  from  Regent's  Quadrant  upwards,  and  the 
line  of  Piccadilly  past  the  parks,  or  Oxford  street,  will 
compare  favorably  with  it.  Collins  street,  in  Melbourne, 
is  said  to  be  one-third  wider,  but  none  of  them  are  four- 
teen miles  long,  as  this  is,  nor  do  they  contain  so  many 
stately  buildings  in  one  continuous  line.  The  elevated 
railway  is,  I  think,  a  serious  drawback  to  the  beauty  of 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  37 

'many  of  the  New  York  streets,  and  what  a  nuisance  it 
must  be  to  the  dwellers  in  them.  Fancy  a  train  of  cars 
with  engine  rattling  at  frequent  intervals  past  your  draw- 
ing room  or  bed-room  windows,  within  a  few  feet.  I 
cannot  think  how  folks  stand  it,  or  how  it  was  ever  per- 
mitted. Underground  travelling  is  bad  enough,  but  it 
relieves  the  crowded  thoroughfares,  and  does  not  block 
them  with  unsightly  structures.  Having  letters  from 
our  friend  McD.  to  Messrs.  W.  H.  Crossman  Bros., 
we  called  at  their  office  and  received  so  much  kind- 
ness and  assistance  from  them  that  we  shall  ever  remem- 
ber it  with  gratitude.  Really,  it  seems  to  me  as  though 
people  were  vying  with  each  other  in  their  considera- 
tion for  us.  A  young  gentleman,  one  of  the  sons,  took 
us  to  the  New  York  Exchange,  a  very  fine  and  exten- 
sive building  lately  erected.  We  ascended  the  central 
tower,  one  of  the  highest  in  the  city,  by  elevator,  and 
from  the  summit  enjoyed  an  unrivalled  view.  The  vast 
city  seemed  to  lie  at  our  feet — on  one  side  the  East  river 
with  its  stupendous  suspension  bridge,  one  of  the  mar- 
vels of  the  age,  connecting  it  with  the  twin  city  of 
Brooklyn ;  on  the  other  the  Hudson,  or  as  it  is  here  called, 
the  North  river,  and  on  its  further  bank  again  Jersey 
City,  connected  with  this  by  ferry.  The  two  rivers  meet- 
ing in  an  apex  above  the  city  at  Harlem,  form  the  island 
of  Manhattan,  on  which  the  town  is  built.  Forests  of 
masts  line  the  inner  bank  of  each  river,  more  particularly 
the  North.  Almost  beneath  us  is  the  Battery  with  its 
well  laid-out  grounds,  and  in  front  of  us  one  of  the  finest 
harbors  in  the  world,  with  several  islands,  most  of  which 
are  fortified ;  and  on  one,  Bedloe's,  is  to  stand  Bartholdi's 


38  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

great  statue  of  "  Liberty  Enlightening  the  World,"  a  torch 
in  her  uplifted  hand  serving  for  a  lighthouse.  Away  to 
our  left  the  ocean  vast  and  grey,  it  and  the  noble  bay 
being  liberally  covered  with  all  sorts  of  crafts,  from  the 
tiny  yacht  to  the  stately  merchantman  and  magnificent 
"ocean  greyhound."  A  clear  sky,  brilliant  sun  and 
pleasant  breeze  combined  to  make  this  a  never-to-be-for- 
gotten picture.  Taking  leave  of  our  kind  guide,  we 
returned  up  town  and  partook  of  a  most  excellent  lunch 
at  the  Vienna  Bakery  in  Broadway,  thence  to  "  do  "  some 
more  of  the  sights,  and  back  to  our  hotel  and  letter  writ- 
ing. 

Next  morning,  charming  weather  again,  off  with  our 
kind  friends  for  more  sight-seeing.  I  can  only  speak  in 
general  terms  of  how  much  we  saw  and  how  pleased  we 
were.  We  travelled  by  the  elevated  railroad  to  the  Croton 
aqueduct,  which  carries  a  river  across  a  valley,  and  were 
delighted  with  our  trip.  We  also  visited  the  Roman 
Catholic  Cathedral,  and  I  think  some  of  the  windows  are 
among  the  most  exquisite  I  have  ever  seen.  Lunched 
with  our  friends  at  the  Buckingham,  a  beautiful  hotel 
near  Central  Park,  and  where  I  should  like  to  stay 
were  I  to  visit  New  York  again.  Our  hotel,  the  Brevoort, 
is  a  very  comfortable  house,  with  an  old  reputation  for 
it,  and  in  a  very  quiet  part  of  the  Fifth  avenue.  A 
strange  custom  obtains  here,  of  which  at  first  I  was  loath 
to  avail  myself.  They  help  you  so  bountifully  that  if  you 
are  two  in  party,  as  we  were,  you  need  only  to  order  your 
soup,  fish,  or  joint  for  one,  with  plates  for  two,  and  you 
get  all  you  can  possibly  desire.     I  felt  some  compunction 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  39 

about  it  at  first,  but  everybody,  they  tell  me,  does  it,  and 
'tis   considered   quite  correct. 

Saturday,  25th  of  April,  was  our  last  day  in  New 
York,  of  which  we  had  not  seen  half  we  wished  to. 
After  breakfast,  on  a  lovely  morning,  we  took  a  coupe 
and  drove  to  Central  Park.  I  have  lost  a  card  on  which 
I  made  some  notes,  but  believe  it  is  about  six  hundred  or 
eight  hundred  acres  in  extent ;  it  is  more  than  two  miles 
long  and  three-quarters  of  a  mile  wide,  with  many  miles 
of  beautiful  drives  winding  in  and  out  among  fine  trees, 
now  just  swelling  into  leaf,  in  which  the  birds  are  twitter- 
ing, and  an  occasional  grey  squirrel  darting  in  and  out. 
Many  fine  buildings  surround  it,  with  numerous  statues, 
and  ornamental .  waters  with  gondolas  and  small  pleas- 
ure boats  thereon,  not  forgetting  the  twin  obelisk,  Cleopa- 
tra's needle,  to  the  one  on  the  bank  of  the  Thames,  and 
unfortunately  like  that  suffering  from  an  uncongenial  cli- 
mate. All  this,  and  much  more,  in  a  place  that  very 
few  years  back  was  an  eyesore  of  quarries,  pits  and  holes 
of  water,  and  a  sort  of  general  depositary  of  rubbish. 
Truly,  the  New  Yorkers  are  to  be  congratulated  on  their 
park,  which  we  enjoyed  and  admired  much.  At  1:30  p. 
m.  embarked  on  White  Star  steamship  "Celtic,"  at  2:30 
casting  off  and  bidding  good-by  to  this  fair  city.  Weather 
being  fine  and  water  smooth  ours  was  for  that  evening  a 
very  merry  lot  of -passengers.  We  were  about  175  in 
number  in  the  cabin — prospects  of  a  war  with  Russia 
crowding  the  German  steamers  at  the  time — made  up  of 
the  usual  promiscuous  people  to  be  met  with  in  travelling. 
There  were  returning  missionaries  from  Japan  and  China; 
Californians  going  to  Europe;  a  gay  coterie  of  New  York- 


40  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

ers  ;  some  nice,  quiet  Southern  ladies,  with  whom  we 
struck  up  a  great  friendship,  two  sisters  being  married  to 
officers  of  the  United  States  Army  and  Navy  ;  a  lot  of 
Cook's  tourists  going  to  "  do  "  Europe,  as  far  as  Rome,  in 
sixty  days,  and  they  "  do "  it  well  and  cheaply,  too ;  a 
family  party  from  Brazil;  also  one  of  Spaniards,  from 
some  West  India  island ;  a  lady  with  a  fat  French 
"  bonne  "  of  much  more  importance  than  her  mistress ; 
the  residue  chiefly  composed  of  individuals  of  all  nation- 
alities and  creeds,  travelling  for  some  commercial  houses 
on  one  side  or  other  of  the  Altantic,  among  them  one  braw 
Scot  who,  on  sundry  occasions,  when  inspired  by  usque- 
baugh, assured  me  that  "though  an  American  citizen,  yet 
he  was  British  down  to  the  grun." 


II. 


THE  "  Celtic  "  is  an  exceedingly  comfortable  ship,  but 
not  fast,  making  on  an  average  about  335  miles  a  day, 
and  we  missed,  too,  the  electric  light  that  we  had  in  our 
staterooms  on  board  the  "Alameda."  We  got,  I  think,  more 
than  our  due  share  of  head  winds,  and  a  good  deal  of  very 
cool,  rough  weather.  It  yet  remains  for  me  to  experience 
crossing  "  when  the  Atlantic  is  like  a  mill-pond  ;" — per- 
haps I  am  a  "Jonah."  We  saw  a  good  many  steamers 
and  vessels  of  one  kind  or  another,  and  on  Wednesday, 
the  29th,  a  nice  fine  day — we  having  passed  the  south  end 
of  the  Banks  during  the  night,  as  well  as  several  icebergs — 
the  cry  was  again  raised  of  "  ice !"  Now  I  feel  I  must  tell 
you  of  the  only  disagreeable  episode  that  occurred  to  us 
in  all  our  "  pilgrimage  " — except  an  impertinent  answer 
from  a  "  cabbie  "  in  Bristol,  and  I  bracket  them  together. 
You  know  that  I  have  passed  Cape  Horn  thirteen  times, 
Grossed  the  Banks  of  Newfoundland  when  other  ships 
were  beset,  and  yet  had  never  seen  floating  ice  at  sea.  We 
went  on  deck  and  there,  sure  enough,  was  an  enormous 
long,  low,  berg  on  our  lee-beam,  some  miles  off,  and  the 
weather  rather  hazy.  Our  captain,  to  whom  I  had  never  yet 
spoken — who,  in  fact,  noticed  but  few  of  his  passengers,  as 
is  no  doubt  correct— was  explaining  and  showing,  through 
his  binocular,  to  a  party  of  ladies  and  gentlemen,  appar- 
ently friends  of  his,  all  about  it.     Their  inspection  over,  I 

41 


42  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

advanced,  bowed,  and  said  :  "  Captain  " — I  did  not  know 
his  name,  but  have  since  discovered  from  an  article  in 
Harpers  Monthly  it  was  Gleadell — "  would  you  kindly  loan 
me  your  glasses  for  a  minute  ?"  He  seemed  astounded  at 
my  temerity,  looked  at  me  for  a  second  or  two,  and  then 
answered  "NO,  Sir!"  in  the  biggest,  most  emphatic  No  it 
has  ever  been  my  lot  to  hear,  after  a  pause  adding,  "  My 
life  depends  on  this  glass."  Meekly  I  replied,  "  Mine,  too, 
I  presume,"  bowed  and  left.  Poor  M.  was  bursting  with 
indignation.  I,  too,  felt  indescribably  chagrined,  as  I 
probably  had  commanded  a  vessel  before  he  ever  saw  salt 
water,  and  it  was  so  gratuitous  an  insult  before  so  many. 
This  incident  caused  much  remark  on  board,  and  was 
coupled  with  an  idea  of  collusion  entertained  by  many, 
but  which  I  do  not  think  could  be  the  case,  that  on  some 
days  when  the  distance — by  dead-reckoning  in  particular 
— was  posted  up,  one  individual  was  always  the  lucky 
man  in  the  '■  pools  "  made  in  the  smoking-room.  Too 
much  gambling  and  drinking  is  allowed,  and  on  Saturday 
night  the  smoking-room  was  a  bear-garden  of  noise  long 
after  eight  bells,  or  midnight,  the  quiet  passengers  com- 
plaining of  it  much. 

Except  for  the  above  vexing  affair  our  passage  was 
fairly  pleasant.  We  had  some  very  nice  people  on  board, 
whose  society  we  enjoyed.  One  German  gentleman,  find- 
ing we  were  from  Hawaii,  said,  "Where  do  not  you  English 
go  to  ?"  and  was  much  surprised  to  hear  how  many  of  his 
compatriots  I  counted  among  my  best  friends  in  our  dis- 
tant island  home.  We  had  the  usual  concert  and  recita- 
tions, as  well  as  divine  service  on  Sunday,  the  doctor,  a 
very  gentlemanly  man,  and  good  reader,  conducting.     And 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  43 


both  followed  by  a  collection  in  aid  of  the  Seaman's 
Orphan  Fund,  I  think.  These  occasions  are  very  pleas- 
ant breaks  in  the  monotony  of  life  at  sea,  there  nearly 
always  being  some  good  musicians  among  the  party. 
Nothing  of  interest  occurred,  except  strong  head  winds, 
and  they  interested  us  much  then,  until  Monday,  4th  of 
May,  when  going  on  deck  at  6  a.  m.,  found  many  sail  of 
all  kinds  in  sight,  and  the  Irish  coast  lying  along  our 
port  beam  a  few  miles  off.  There  is  always  much  excite- 
ment on  board  ship  at  making  land,  but  when  it  is  the 
old  historic  world,  seen  for  the  first  time  by  natives  of  the 
new  one,  then  it  is  intensified,  of  course.  One  young 
lady  of  our  party  seemed  quite  disappointed  on  being 
told  that  a  tower  she  had  discovered  on  a  headland  was 
only  a  prosaic  coast-guard  and  rocket-station,  and  not  the 
ruins  of  a  castle  "grim  and  old."  10  a.  m.  off  the  beauti- 
ful harbor  of  Queenstown,  and  the  eye  is  charmed  at  once 
with  the  verdant  hue  of  the  grass,  contrasting  with  the 
brilliant  gold  of  the  patches  of  furze  seen  through  the 
peculiar  soft  haze  usual  on  this  coast.  A  tug-boat  was 
soon  alongside  for  the  mails  and  passengers  to  be  landed 
here..  A  goodly  number  of  the  latter — Hibernian,  no 
doubt,  from  their  light-hearted ness,  had  come  over  in  the 
steerage,  and  now  went  ashore  with  every  demonstration 
of  joy.  One  young  fellow  threw  his  hat  up  and  overboard 
in  its  exuberance,  and  was  immediately  imitated  in  his 
action  by  a  compatriot  who  remained  on  board.  I  think 
there  was  almost  a  feeling  of  disappointment  at  finding 
that  war  had  not  been  declared  between  Russia  and  Eng- 
land. Newspapers  were  eagerly  sought  for,  and  some  of 
two  days  old  obtained  for  sixpence  each.     Sent  telegrams 


44  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

ashore  to  some  of  our  friends,  and  off  we  went  again,  after 
about  half  an  hour's  stay,  for  Liverpool,  parting  from 
our  fellow  passengers  with  wild  cheers.  Steaming  along 
the  Irish  shore,  wind  ahead,  rather  hazy  and  light  showers 
of  rain  obscuring  the  land,  we  were  at  4:30  p.  m.  off  Taskar 
light,  and  heading  across  for  the  coast  of  Wales,  which 
the  thickness  of  the  weather,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  prevented 
our  seeing.  Can  it  be  possible  this  is  May,  thermometer 
showing  49°  ?  Dark  and  hazy  all  night,  so  it  was  of  no 
use  going  on  deck  to  look  for  the  old  familiar  lights  and 
headlands.  I  had  counted  much  on  the  pleasure  to  be 
experienced  from  this,  but  took  my  disappointment  phil- 
osophically, and  "  turned  in."  At  5  o'clock  next  morn- 
ing, 5th,  awoke  and  found  we  were  at  anchor  in  the 
Mersey.  The  dear  old  land  was  in  sight  once  more,  a 
happiness  we  had  thought  would  never  again  be  ours,  and 
filling  our  hearts  with  thankfulness  and  emotions  I  will 
not  attempt  to  define.  Think  of  it,  we  had  not  stood  on 
British  soil,  except  in  some  of  the  colonies,  for  nigh  six- 
and-thirty  years,  and  now  here  it  was  in  sight  again  on 
each  side  of  us. 

"  Breathes  there  a  man,  with  soul  so  dead, 
Who  never  to  himself  hath  said, 
This  is  my  own,  my  native  land  !*' 

Much  was  familiar.  The  beautiful  tower  of  old  St.  Nich- 
olas Church,  with  its  illuminated  dial,  where  in  my  youth- 
ful days  the  officiating  clergyman  used  to  marry  sailors 
and  their  lasses  in  batches  of  twenty  or  thirty  at  a  time, 
making  one  service  do  for  all ;  the  gilded  figure  of  Brit- 
annia, shining  in  the  morning  light,  on  the  cupola  of  the 
Exchange ;  and  a  long  stretch  of  docks   filled   with   the 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         45 


commerce  of  the  world.  There  was  much  of  the  unfamil- 
iar, too.  I  missed  the  Bootle  landmarks,  their  site  and 
that  of  the  old  fort  being  long  since  built  over ;  and  the 
dock-line  on  the  Liverpool  side  had  actually  grown  miles. 
The  Cheshire  shore,  where  we  had  known  many  detached 
villages,  Tranmae,  Birkenhead,  Rockferry,  Seacomb,  Ege- 
mond,  etc.,  in  some  cases  with  waste-land  and  sand-hills 
between,  was  now  practically  one  big  town,  Birkenhead, 
with  noble  docks,  and  forests  of  masts  within.  A  steamer 
was  soon  alongside — bringing  a  large  packet  of  letters  for 
us  which  we  were  very  glad  to  get,  sent  off  by  our  tried 
friend  Mr.  L. — to  take  on  shofe  the  mails,  passengers  and 
baggage.  Disembarking  at  the  landing  stage,  built  on 
floating  caissons  of  iron,  rising  and  falling  with  the  tide 
(here  some  twenty  feet),  we  proceeded  to  the  customs  depot 
— on  the  stage — our  luggage  being  taken  there  for  exam- 
ination. We  anticipated  a  severe  scrutiny  in  consequence 
of  the  recent  dynamite  explosions  in  the  Tower  and 
Houses  of  Parliament,  but  the  officers  were  satisfied  with 
opening  our  trunks  and  a  cursory  glance  at  their  contents. 
Did  they  know,  think  you,  that  we  were  but  pilgrims? 
We  had  neither  scallop-shell,  staff  or  sandalled  shoon  ; 
only  umbrellas,  rugs  and  multitudinous  small  things, 
which  avoid  when  you  travel. 

WTe  were  soon  at  the  Northwestern  Hotel,  terminus 
of  the  London  &  Northwestern  Railway,  situated  in  Lime 
street,  opposite  the  fine  building  of  St.  George's  Hall.  I 
do  not  purpose  giving  you  a  description  of  Liverpool, 
though  the  second  city  of  commercial  importance  in  the 
kingdom.  It  has  some  fine  streets,  and  much  has  been 
done   in   the   improvement   of  them   of  late   years.     St. 


46  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

George's   Hall  is  a  superb   building   in   the   Corinthian 
style,  with  a  massive  flight  of  steps  in  front,  guarded  by 
recumbent  lions,  and  equestrian  statues  of  the  Queen  and 
Prince  Albert.     The  free  public  library  and  museum,  the 
munificent  gifts  to  the  town  of  Sir  W.  Brown,  are  noble 
piles  ;  Custom  House  and  Exchange,  too,  are  well  worth  a 
visit.     In  front  of  the  former  is  a  statue  of  Huskisson,  M. 
P.  for  Liverpool  at  the  time.    He  was  the  first  victim  to  rail- 
way accidents,  being  killed  at  the  opening  of  the  Liver- 
pool &  Manchester  Railway.     In  the  square  of  the  latter 
building  is  a  bronze  monument  to  Nelson,  who  is  repre- 
sented as  falling  in  death  into  the  arms  of  Victory,  with 
the   well  known  inscription   around  its  base,  "  England 
expects  every  man  to  do  his  duty,"  several  groups  of  acces- 
sory figures  making  a  grand  whole.     The  docks  have  no 
equals  in  the  world  for  magnitude  and   extent,  though 
there  are  individual  docks  larger,   being  six  and  a   half 
miles  from  north  to  south,  with  quay  frontage  of  twenty- 
two   miles.     Of  its  cleanliness  the  Liverpudlians   cannot 
boast  much,  especially  near  the  docks,  but  then  we  must 
take  into  account  its  enormous  traffic.     I  think,  too,  there 
are  more  street  Arabs,  of  both  sexes,  in  their  vicinity  than 
I  ever  saw  in  any  other  town. 

Anxious  as  we  were  to  proceed  on  our  journey,  we 
were  forced  to  remain  a  couple  of  days  here,  being  in 
pretty  much  the  same  predicament  as  "  Miss  Flora  Mc- 
Flimsy,  of  Madison  square  ;"  in  my  case  soon  surmounted, 
a  call  on  Sartorius  at  10:30  a.  m.  of  one  day  producing 
the  necessary  integuments  at  8:30  on  the  following  one. 
Next  day  broke  with  gloomy  easterly  weather,  and  some 
sharp  showers  of  sleet  and  rain,  but  clearing  about  noon 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  47 

we  ran  down  to  Southport  to  visit  some  friends.  The 
track  is  uninteresting,  running  along  the  estuary  of  the 
Mersey  and  the  sea  coast,  amidst  many  sand  wastes  and 
gorse,  but  in  some  places  flowers — yes,  actually  flowers,  in 
this  keen  weather — in  the  railway  cuttings,  and  green  fields, 
oh,  so  green  !  I  could  compare  it  to  nothing  but  the 
brilliant  hue  of  young  rice.  Southport  is  a  pretty  place 
enough  when  you  get  to  it,  many  Manchester  merchants 
residing  there  for  the  salubrity  of  its  situation  ;  but  it  has 
no  "  port,"  and  I  think  it  would  be  difficult  to  make  one, 
as  it  appeared  to  me  that  the  sea  receded  for  miles,  leav- 
ing long  stretches  of  bare  sands  at  low  water.  We  enjoyed 
our  visit  to  our  kind  friends  much,  but  had  to  hurry  back 
to  Liverpool  to  fulfil  others  to  friends  there,  whom  we 
esteemed  much  and  had  known  at  the  islands,  and  whose 
kindness  to  us  we  shall  never  forget.  Next  day  about 
noon  we  left  by  Nor-western  for  Ludlow  in  Shropshire, 
the  first  part  of  our  journey  not  very  cheering  in  appear- 
ance, especially  the  country  around  Runcorn  and  Widnes, 
vegetation  looking  blighted,  and  the  trees  stunted  from 
the  effects  of  the  many  large  chemical  works  in  their 
vicinities.  Crossing  the  Mersey  by  a  fine  bridge  at  the 
former  place  into  Cheshire,  the  prospect  rapidly  improves. 
We  are  soon  at  Crewe  Junction,  and  from  thence  into 
Shropshire.  How  calm  and  peaceful  it  all  looks  !  In  one 
place  I  noticed  a  hen  pheasant  on  the  railway- bank,  her 
mate  with  his  gorgeous  plumage  in  the  adjoining  field, 
neither  of  whom  flew  away  as  our  train  passed  by.  On 
past  Shrewsbury,  we  at  3  p.  m.  were  at  Ludlow,  the  ven- 
erable father  of  our  dear  friend  Mrs.  D.,  whom  we  had  left 
very  ill,  meeting  us  at  the  station.     Arriving  soon  at  his 


48  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

charming  home  on  the  Teme,  we  experienced  the  tradi- 
tional warm  English  welcome  usually  accorded  to  old 
Mends.  After  a  stroll  in  our  host's  pretty  garden,  glowing 
with  early  flowers,  along  one  side  of  which  the  river  flows 
murmuring  gently  down,  on  the  opposite  bank  a  rook- 
ery, its  denizens  cawing  a  noisy  good-night,  and  where 
I  saw  a  thrush  sitting  on  her  nest  in  peace,  I  went 
in  the  long  spring  evening,  now  lengthening  into  sum- 
mer, for  a  stroll  to  see  some  of  the  beauties  of  this 
ancient  town.  A  few  minutes'  walk  brought  me  to  a  fine 
old  bridge  of  "  three  fay  re  arches,"  as  Leland  says,  built 
in  the  fourteenth  or  fifteenth  century ;  it  once  had  a 
chapel  to  St.  Catherine  on  it,  and  a  number  of  houses 
also.  The  view  from  it  up  and  down  the  river  is  charm- 
ing, and  I  stayed  as  long  as  time  would  permit  and 
enjoyed  its  quiet  loveliness.  From  thence  up  a  steep 
street  with  an  old  archway  yet  standing  across  it,  in  which 
the  portcullis  grooves  and  great  iron  hinges  of  a  former 
gate  still  remain,  and  a  few  minutes'  walk  brought  me  to 
the  fine  old  Church  of  St.  Lawrence.  It  was  unfortu- 
nately closed,  but  I  could  see  from  its  exterior  that  it  was 
a  beautiful  old  building,  with  much  fine  glass.  Some  or' 
the  windows  are  said  to  be  exquisite.  They  were  all  taken 
out  and  hidden  previous  to  the  Protectorate,  to  save  them 
from  the  Parliamentary  soldiers'  fanatic  zeal,  but  have 
since  been  fully  restored.  The  castle,  one  of  the  finest 
ruins  in  England,  stands  on  a  hill,  the  town  sloping  down 
on  all  sides  from  it.  It  has  much  historic  interest,  having 
been  the  residence  of  several  Plantagenet  kings,  as  also 
of  the  Lords  Marchers  of  Wales,  who  held  court  here  in 
great  state.     Near  to  this  Caractacus  was  defeated  by  the 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  49 

Romans.  To  this  castle  Arthur,  eldest  son  of  Henry  VII., 
brought  his  young  bride  Katherine  of  Arragon,  and  here 
he  died  from  illness,  it  is  said,  brought  on  by  seeking  her, 
she  having  been  lost  in  the  forest  while  hunting,  all  one 
stormy  night,  during  which  she  was  carried  off  by  a 
marauding  Welshman  to  his  cave.  The  apartments  occu- 
pied by  "  Miss  Katherine  of  Arragon  "  were  duly  pointed 
out  to  me  by  my  aged  cicerone,  who  seemed  almost  to  be 
a  part  of  the  castle  itself.  From  here  the  two  young 
princes,  sons  of  Edward  IV.,  were  taken  to  the  Tower  of 
London  by  their  uncle  Richard,  to  become  victims  of  his 
ambition.  Sir  Phillip  Sidney  resided  here  as  a  youth  ; 
Richard  Baxter,  too,  of  Saints'  Rest  renown.  In  rooms 
over  the  principal  gate-house  Butler  wrote  his  Hudibras  ; 
and  in  this  castle  Milton's  masque  of  "  Comus  "  was  writ- 
ten, and  first  performed  in  the  council  chamber  of  the 
Court  of  Marches,  the  incident  that  gave  rise  to  it  being 
that  the  two  sons  and  daughter — lady  Alice — of  the  then 
governor,  were  benighted  in  Hey  wood  forest  near  by,  the 
lady  for  a  while  lost,  but  afterwards  discovered  by  her 
brothers  ;  they  all  took  part  in  the  representation,  as  well 
as  the  poet  himself.  As  the  sun  was  sinking  I  ascended 
the  great  Norman  keep,  the  massive  stone  stairs  being 
still  in  fair  repair.  My  guide  begged  to  be  excused;  his 
knees  were  too  stiff,  he  said.  What  a  lovely  prospect  lay 
beneath,  and  on  all  sides  ! — woods,  river,  meads,  and  the 
old  town,  with  part  of  its  ancient  walls,  nestling  at  your 
feet  on  one  side ;  on  the  other,  an  almost  abrupt  precipice. 
Ah,  those  old  kings  and  barons  looked  out  for  strong  places, 
and  no  doubt  they  wanted  them,  here  especially,  to  keep 


50  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

their  turbulent  and  war-like  neighbors,  the  Welsh,  in 
order.  I  must  not  weary  you  with  this  charming  and 
once  important  town,  but  I  would  fain  have  spent  a 
month  here  listening  to  our  host's  interesting  fund  of 
antiquarian  lore. 

At  9  a.  m.  next  morning — lovely  weather  now,  but  cool 
to  us — after  an  excellent  night's  rest,  we  left  by  railway 
for  Gloucester,  passing  through  Leominster,  Hereford  and 
Ross,  getting  to  the  former  place,  with  its  beautiful  cathe- 
dral, but  of  which  we  got  glimpses  in  passing,  at  2  p.  m. 
Here  we  changed  for  Bristol,  where  we  arrived  at  4:30  p.  m. 
I  cannot  make  you  comprehend  the  beauty  of  the  country 
through  which  we  have  passed  to-day,  only  that  we  were 
anxious  to  get  to  our  destination,  where  dear  ones  were 
waiting  so  patiently  for  us.  1  felt  that,  had  it  been  pos- 
sible, I  should  have  liked  to  walk  the  whole  way.  Towns, 
villages,  hamlets,  farms,  mansions,  churches,  rivers,  the 
wealth  of  blossom  on  the  fruit  trees  and  marvelous  green 
of  the  meadows,  making  a  whole  so  lovely  and  so  peace- 
ful, the  like  few  lands  can  show.  And  such  a  finish,  such 
a  calm  beauty  over  everything,  such  wayside  cottages  and 
cottage  gardens !  But  it  took  many  centuries  of  warr 
rapine  and  bloodshed,  with  toil,  labor  and  strenuous  asser- 
tion of  right,  before  this  result  was  attained  and  the  land 
had  peace.  Britons,  you  have  much  to  be  thankful 
for  in  the  "  silver  streak  "  that  keeps  your  "  isle  inviolate 
still." 

Well,  and  this  is  well-remembered  Bristol,  once  to 
me  the  very  Phoenix  of  cities.  Old  friend,  you  do  not 
look  so  imposing  as  of  yore  ;  still  I  love  you,  if  you  are  a 
little  grimy.     Many  happy  boyhood  hours  were  spent  in 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  51 

you,  and  for  their  sake,  Aloha  rmi !  Bristol — or  Caer  Oder 
of  the  Britons — is  a  very  ancient  city,  and  once  held  sec- 
ond rank  in  England,  its  merchant  princes  being  renowned 
the  world  over.  From  it  Sebastian  Cabot,  who  was  born 
here  about  A.J).  1477,  set  forth  on  the  famous  voyage  that 
discovered  Newfoundland,  with  Labrador  and  the  conti- 
nent of  America,  on  June  24th  of  the  same  year.  Its  his- 
tory is  full  of  stories  of  battle,  siege  and  warfare  from  the 
time  of  Alfred,  who  walled  it — probably  against  the  Danes 
— down  to  its  surrender  to  the  Parliamentary  forces.  It 
has  many  noble  charities  and  schools.  Among  them  may 
be  mentioned  Colston's,  the  boys  of  which  wear  a  brass 
dolphin  on  their  breasts.  Tradition  says  a  ship  of  his, 
laden  with  a  cargo  of  great  value,  struck  on  a  rock  and 
began  to  leak  badly.  This  suddenly  ceased,  and  on  her 
return  home  it  was  found  a  good-natured  dolphin  had 
stuck  his  head  in  the  hole,  and  saved  the  ship,  and  her 
owner  from  ruin.  Hence  his  gratitude  and  the  dolphin 
badge.  The  cathedral  is  not  remarkable  for  beauty,  but 
a  Norman  archery  leading  into  Lower  College  Green  was 
pronounced  by  Horace  Walpole — no  mean  judge — the 
finest  in  England.  Opposite  the  cathedral,  on  the  other 
side  of  College  Green,  is  the  Mayor's  Chapel,  where, 
during  repairs  some  years  ago,  a  workman  by  accident 
knocked  some  bricks  out  of  a  wall,  and  the  result  was  the 
discovery  of  a  number  of  very  beautiful  tombs  and  effigies 
of  Crusaders  that  had  probably  been  nailed  up  to  prevent 
their  destruction  by  the  iconoclastic  Puritans,  and  for- 
gotten. The  gem  of  Bristol  is,  however,  the  Church  of  St. 
Mary  KedclifTe,  which,  with  its  beautiful  grained  interior 
and  maze  of  stately  columns,  was  pronounced  by  Queen 


52  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

Elizabeth  "the  fairest  and  stateliest"  parish  church  in 
England.  The  style  is  early  perpendicular,  though  some 
exquisite  doorways  belong  to  the  decorated  period.  It 
has  been  restored  in  late  years,  and  is  a  beautiful  struc- 
ture. In  a  small  room  near  the  western  entrance  we  saw 
a  rib  of  the  dun-cow,  said  to  have  once  supplied  all  Bris- 
tol with  milk,  going  from  door  to  door  for  the  people's 
convenience.  It  looked  to  me  like  a  whale's  rib,  and  it  is 
known  Cabot  presented  one  to  the  city  on  his  return 
from  his  celebrated  voyage  in  1497.  In  the  muniment 
room  of  this  church  "  the  wondrous  boy  Chatterton  "  pro- 
fessed to  have  found  the  parchment  and  MSS.,  in  prose 
and  poetry,  beautifully  illuminated,  of  Rowley  the  priest. 
He  began  these  wondrous  forgeries  when  little  more  than 
twelve  years  of  age.  His  lamentable  death,  and  story  is 
too  well  known  to  need  repetition  here.  He  lies  in  a 
nameless  grave  in  a  London  church-yard,  but  a  handsome 
monument  in  this  one  commemorates  his  brilliant  genius 
and  unhappy  fate.  This  city  is  singularly  rich  in  noted 
churches  and  ancient  architecture. 

But  I  must  get  on  and  ask  you  to  go  with  me  up  Park 
street  to  lovely  Clifton,  and  Dunham,  and  Clifton  Downs — 
in  my  boyhood,  breezy,  healthy  heights,  now  being  fast 
covered  with  crescent  terraces,  streets  and  squares,  but 
very  beautiful  and  health-giving  still  from  their  command- 
ing height  above  the  river  Avon,  here  crossed  (from  St. 
Vincent's  Rocks  to  Leigh  Woods)  by  one  of  the  highest 
and  most  beautiful  suspension  bridges  in  the  world.  Its 
height  above  the  river  is  270  feet  and  the  view  from  it  up 
and  down  the  lovely  winding  stream  magnificent,  with 
stupendous  cliffs  on  one  side  and  umbrageous  woods  on 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  53 

the  other,  and  far   beneath  in  the  chasm,  river,  ships, 
houses  and  men. 

Bristol  was  the  first  city  to  establish  steam  communi- 
cation with  America,  the  "Great  Western"  being  built 
here.     I  saw  her  launched  in  1838.     Well,  they  are  wait- 
ing for  us  in  the  West,  and  off  we  go  by  the  Great  West- 
ern Railway — broad-gauge,  and  I  think  the  finest  line  I 
ever  travelled  on,  and  at  the  greatest  speed.     While  on 
this  subject  I  want  to  tell  you  that  we  made  it  a  rule  to 
always  travel  by  third-class  carriage — not,  mind  you,  the 
third-class  carriage  of  former  years,  uncushioned,  unven- 
tilated,  and  on  some  lines  uncovered,  but  comfortably 
upholstered  and  padded,  both  seats  and  backs,  as  high 
as  your  head,  and  travelling  at  high  speed,  on  a  mixed 
train  of  first  and  second  class.     Highly  respectable  people 
go  in  them,  the  rougher  class  generally  using  smoking 
cars,  of  which  there  are  several  in  each  train.     We  met 
on  this  very  journey  with  two  ladies,  one  of  whom  was  a 
relative  of  the  Bishop  of  E.  going  to  visit  him,  and  the 
other  a  member  of  an  Anglican  Sisterhood,  whose  brother 
we  discovered  was   First  Lieutenant  of  N's  ship,   and 
several  others,  evidently  ladies  and  gentlemen,  from  some 
of  whom  we  received  much  information  as  to  the  places 
of  interest  on  our  route,  and  enjoyed  their  pleasant  society 
and  conversation.     This  remark  will  fully  apply  to  our 
many  journeys  up  and  down  the  land  ;  the  day  of  the 
traditional  taciturn  and  chilly  Englishman    who  could 
not  speak  without  an  introduction  is,  I   fancy,  passed. 
The  school-master  has  been  abroad,  and  so,  too,  has  the 
insular  Briton,  thanks  to  cheap  rail  and  steam.     Leaving 
Bristol  at  9:15  a.  m.,  passing  Weston-super-Mare,  Bridge- 


54  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

water,  Taunton,  Wellington — from  where  the  great  Duke 
took  his  title,  a  tall  column  being  erected  on  a  hill  near 
by  in  his  honor — we  passed  across  the  fair  county  of 
Somerset  into  lovely  Devon,  arriving  at  Exeter  about 
2  p.  m.j  catching  a  passing  view  of  its  magnificent  cathe- 
dral, of  which  I  will  tell  you  on  a  subsequent  visit. 

Crossing  the  river  Exe,  we  speed  on  through  most 
beautiful  and  diversified  scenery,  past  Ponderham  castles 
— old  and  new — seats  of  the  Earls  of  Devon ;  Exmouth, 
on  the  estuary  of  the  river,  with  a  glorious  view  of  the  sea  ; 
Starcross,  a  charming  seaside  place,  beneath  a  spread- 
ing yew  in  whose  church-yard  Bos  well  made  a  vow,  all 
too  quickly  broken,  never  to  get  drunk  again ;  Dawlish, 
etc.,  along  the  seacoast,  with  red  sandstone  rocks  in 
most  fantastic  shapes,  and  here,  turning  more  inland,  past 
some  of  the  prettiest  villages  in  England,  we  got  to  Mut- 
ley,  a  suburb  of  Plymouth,  at  4  p.  m.  N.  was  awaiting 
us  at  the  station  with  his  servant,  in  whose  charge  our 
baggage  was  left.  A  few  minutes'  walk  brought  us  to  the 
house  ;  a  row  of  five  little  expectant  faces,  whom  we  had 
never  seen,  at  the  nursery  window  ;  dear  A.,  who  was  not 
well  enough  to  go  out  at  the  door,  and  all  our  fatigues 
were  quickly  forgotten,  long  years  of  separation  vanished, 
and  the  pilgrims  were  at  rest,  after  their  long  journey  by 
land  and  sea. 

Now,  to  tell  you  something  of  this  ancient  town  of 
Plymouth  and  its  environs.  Do  not  fancy  from  my 
use  of  the  term  ancient,  in  what  I  have  to  say  of  English 
towns,  that  I  by  any  means  desire  to  convey  the  idea  of 
decrepitude  ;  far  from  it,  for  nothing  astonished  me  more 
than  the   vigorous  life  displayed  in  many  of  these  old 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  55 


towns  in  the  way  of  new  streets,  fine  buildings,  and 
improvements  of  every  kind.  In  the  new  suburbs  of 
many,  especially,  and  what  pleased  me  much,  was  to 
see  little  signs,  but  yet  of  great  significance,  pointing  to  a 
growing  sentiment  of  kindly  feeling  between  the  two 
great  branches  of  the  English-speaking  family.  I  allude 
to  the  frequent  repetition  of  the  name  of  the  late  lamented 
President  Garfield,  as  here  in  Plymouth  only  I  noticed 
several  terraces,  places  and  descents  bearing  his  name. 

But  to  resume  :    Plymouth's  origin  is  almost  lost  in 
the  mists  of  antiquity,  its  splendid  Sound  having  made  it 
always  from  the  earliest  times  a  noble  harbor.     Properly 
it  consists  of  three  towns,  and  is  often  called  by  the  inhab- 
itants  "  The  Three  Towns,"  viz.,  Plymouth,    Stonehouse 
and  Davenport  ;  but,  practically,  is  but   one.     This,   as 
you  are  aware,   is  a  great   military   and   naval  station, 
splendidly    situated    on    what    is    generally    known    as 
Plymouth  Sound— a  noble  expanse  of  water  into  which 
the  rivers  Plym  and  Tamar  fall,  and  protected  from  ocean 
storms  in  a  great  measure  by  the  formation  of  the  land 
on  the  opposite  shore  of  Mount  Edgecomb,  and  by  Drake's 
Island.     Still  the  entrance  to  the  Sound  was  open  to  the 
heavy  seas  rolling  in  from  the  Atlantic,  and  a  magnificent 
breakwater  has  been  built,  a  mile  in  length,  seventy-five 
yards  broad  at  its  base  and  eleven  at  its  top,  and  ships 
now  ride  within  it  in  perfect  safety.     It  is  constructed  in 
from  three  to  seven  fathoms  of  water,  has  a   lighthouse 
on  the  entrance  end,   a  pyramidal  beacon  on  the  other, 
and  just  within  it  a  heavily-armed  oval  casemated  iron- 
clad fort,  said  to  be  one  of  the  strongest  in  the  world. 
Indeed,  the   whole   place  seems  to   be   thoroughly  pro- 


56  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

tected  with  the  forts  of  Picklecombe,  Bovisand,  and  Drake's 
Island  seaward,  and  on  the  land  side  by  a  chain  of 
most  formidable  works  of  earth  and  stone  from  east  to 
west,  surrounding  the  dockyards  and  arsenal  completely 
in  a  ring  of  fortifications.  The  stone  forts  look  grim  and 
formidable  enough  with  their  heavy  guns  in  casemates, 
but  the  earthworks,  being  covered  with  soft,  green  turf, 
and  no  cannon  grinning  in  their  embrasures,  seem  inno- 
cent as  Landseer's  picture  of  "  Peace."  The  view  from 
the  Hoe,  a  high  shoulder  of  rock,  with  a  carriage  road 
running  along  the  water's  edge  below,  constituting  the 
sea  front  of  Plymouth,  and  a  most  beautiful  promenade, 
is,  in  my  opinion,  almost  unrivalled,  being  of  considerable 
extent  and  liberally  provided  with  seats  for  the  accom- 
modation of  loungers  and  pedestrians  ;  no  vehicles  or 
horses  are  allowed  on  it.  On  the  town  side  is  a  pretty 
park,  where  one  of  the  bands  from  the  troops  in  garrison 
plays  at  stated  times.  With  fine  houses  and  hotels  front- 
ing the  sea,  is  a  commanding  bronze  statue  of  Sir  Francis 
Drake,  by  Boehm.  The  celebrated  Eddystone  lighthouse 
of  Smeaton,  taken  down  some  time  ago  as  unsafe,  has 
been  re-erected  here. 

Looking  seaward,  the  vast  Atlantic  stretches,  dim  and 
grey,  broken  only  by  the  thin  line  of  the  breakwater, 
or  long  trail  of  smoke  from  some  marine  monster,  or,  on  a 
clear  day,  by  the  beautiful  spire  of  the  distant  Eddystone 
lighthouse  gleaming  like  a  ray  of  light.  On  your  right  is 
the  Hamoaze  with  men-of-war  of  every  description,  some 
at  anchor  there,  others  in  dock — from  the  old  three-deckers 
of  120  guns,  now  useless  but  for  schoolships  or  storeships, 
to  the  modern  iron-clad  monsters  with  turrets,  and  smaller 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  57 

vessels  of  every  type.  Among  the  former  I  may  mention 
the  "  Royal  Adelaide,"  "  Implacable  "  and  "  Impregnable," 
with  other  historic  names;  and  of  the  latter  "  Black 
Prince,"  "  Defiance,"  "  Bellerophon,"  "  Shannon,"  "Incon- 
stant," "Achilles,"  "Northumberland,"  "Hotspur,"  and 
many  others.  On  the  shoreward  side  of  it  lies  a  grand 
line  of  docks,  basins,  storehouses,  steam  factories,  victual- 
ing yards,  marine  barracks,  hospitals,  and  other  necessary 
adjuncts  of  a  great  naval  port  and  depot,  but  which  I  can- 
not stop  to  describe — as  well  as  large  dock  accommoda- 
tion for  merchantmen,  giving  the  beholder  an  idea  of  the 
vast  power  and  wealth  of  the  nation  which  owns  it. 

To  your  left  is  Sutton  Pool,  the  old  port  for  merchant- 
men, and  the  Catwater,  overlooked  by  the  citadel,  an 
imposing  structure  capable  of  mounting  150  guns,  built  in 
the  reign  of  Charles  II. — once,  no  doubt,  considered  very 
formidable,  but  now,  like  its  builder,  obsolete  and  of  little 
use  in  modern  warfare. 

No  Englishman  or  American  can  stand  on  this  far- 
famed  Hoe,  the  fresh  breeze  from  the  sea  blowing  in  his 
face  and  rippling  the  waters  of  the  Sound,  without  a  feel- 
ing of  pride  of  race  swelling  up  in  his  heart  when  he 
thinks  of  the  great  deeds  of  his  common  ancestry  in  con- 
nection with  it.  From  here  sailed  the  great  mariners 
Raleigh,  Gilbert,  Grenville,  Davies,  Frobisher,  Cavendish, 
and  a  host  of  other  "  adventurers  "  to  the  new-found  world. 
On  its  height,  it  is  said,  Francis  Drake  was  playing  his 
historical  game  of  bowls  with  some  other  old  sea-dogs, 
and  which  he  would  not  leave  till  finished,  when  the 
Spanish  Armada  was  reported  in  sight.  He  and  other 
gallant  spirits,  favoured  by  the  elements,  providentially 


58  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

destroyed  it  and  made  England  and  America  Anglo-Saxon 
and  free,  instead  of  Spanish  and  oppressed. 

From  the  step  of  the  Barbican  on  Sutton's  Pool, 
just  below  to  your  left  as  you  stand  on  the  ramparts  of 
the  citadel  looking  out  to  sea,  these  heroes  and  many  more 
sailed  to  humble  the  pride  of  Spain,  to  plant  the  cross  of 
St.  George  in  nearly  every  nook  and  corner  of  the  world, 
and  to  create  a  newer  and  a  greater  Britain  in  the  West ! 

From  here,  too,  on  the  6th  day  of  September,  A.  D. 
1620,  sailed  the  gallant  and  devoted  band  of  Pilgrim 
Fathers  in  the  "  Mayflower,"  to  found  another  Plymouth 
in  a  new  world,  and  of  their  gallant  enterprise  no  man 
can  yet  foresee  the  wondrous  results  and  benefits  to 
unborn  generations. 

Of  the  town  itself,  I  do  not  purpose  saying  much, 
though  it  is  of  considerable  importance  and  size,  with  a 
population  of  80,000.  I  like  it  myself  as  a  residence, 
and  some  of  its  suburbs  are  charming,  with  many 
handsome  houses  and  villas,  notably  that  of  Mutley, 
where  we  stayed.  A  stroll  down  the  lines  of  Bedford  and 
George  streets,  filled  with  a  varied  crowd  of  towns-people, 
blue-jackets  and  soldiers  in  uniform,  was  always  very 
interesting  to  me,  next  only  to  a  brisk  walk  on  the 
bracing  Hoe.  The  Seaforth  Highlander,  60th  Rifles,  and 
a  red-coated  line  regiment  were  in  garrison  while  we  were 
here  ;  and  these  with  marines,  artillery-men  and  sailors 
made  a  gay  crowd.  The  Guild-hall  is  a  handsome  modern 
building,  and  St.  Andrew's  Church,  nearly  opposite,  is  a 
fine  old  one  ;  on  a  tablet  over  the  door  is  a  stone  with  the 
inscription  :  "  H.  VI.  R.  MCCCCLX."  Once,  I  imagine, 
the  town  was  but  illy  supplied  with   water,   and   must 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  59 


have  often  suffered  in  the  many  sieges  it  has  sustained. 
One  of  its  suburbs  is  called  "  Penny-come- quick,"  and 
the  story  goes  that  a  noted  well  once  existed  there,  and 
that  water  was  sold  at  a  penny  a  pail ;  hence  the  name 
when  the  demand  was  frequent.  Now  it  has  abundance 
of  water  brought  in  "  leats,"  as  they  are  called,  from  the 
heights  of  Dartmoor,  a  very  parent  of  rivers  and  brooks, 
flowing  in  their  necessarily  devious  sources  some  thirty 
miles.  The  first  was  brought  to  Plymouth  by  the  munif- 
icence of  Sir  Francis  Drake,  then  representing  the 
borough  in  Parliament,  and  its  arrival  was  celebrated  by 
public  rejoicing,  the  Mayor  and  corporation  in  their  robes 
going  out  to  meet  it.  The  country  folk  give  another  ver- 
sion. They  say  that  the  women,  being  sorely  distressed 
for  water,  appealed  to  Sir  Francis,  who  called  for  his 
horse,  rode  out  to  "  Dartymoor,"  found  a  fine  spring, 
which  he  bewitched  with  some  magic  words,  and  starting 
back  on  the  gallop  the  stream  followed  his  horse's  heels 
into  the  town.  Take  either  story  you  like,  but  the  old 
hero's  leat  is  really  derived  from  the  river  Meavy,  and 
the  Mayor  and  corporation  annually  visit  the  source 
and  drink  in  water  from  it,  "  to  the  pious  memory  of  Sir 
Francis  Drake,"  and  then  in  wine,  "  May  the  descendants 
of  him  who  brought  us  water  never  want  wine." 

There  is  no  end  of  excursions  by  land  or  by  water  to 
be  had  from  here  into  either  of  the  counties  of  Devon  or 
Cornwall.  N.  and  I  used  frequently  to  run  for  a  few 
miles  by  rail  to  some  country  station  where  we  got  out 
and  wandered  through  secluded  Devonshire  lanes  into 
the  woods,  or  fields,  with  their  green  hedge-rows,  studded 
with  daisies,   cowslips  and  buttercups ;  the  cuckoo  ever 


60  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

repeating  his  own  name,  and  the  skylark  invisible  in  the 
blue  sky  trilling  his  melody,  and  so  back  to  catch  a  return- 
ing train  and  be  home  ere  dark.  To  me  it  seemed  as 
though  two  or  three  days  were  rolled  into  one,  not  from 
weariness,  for  very  existence  was  exquisite  in  the  lovely, 
cool  bright  weather,  but  from  the  many  hours  of  daylight 
and  variety  of  incidents  occurring  during  them.  I  wish  I 
could  make  you  fully  realize  the  beauty  of  it  all ;  the 
deep,  sometimes  tortuous,  romantic  old  country  lanes  that 
have  existed  for  so  many  centuries  that  they  are  worn  far 
below  the  surface  of  the  surrounding  country.  It  seems 
almost  a  pity  that  utilitarianism  demands  their  being 
improved  any.  How  we  rejoiced  in  the  noble  oaks,  elms 
and  beeches  growing  above  them,  and  the  wealth  of  spring 
flowers  now  clothing  their  banks,  with  the  gold  and  blue 
of  primroses  and  bluebells  in  profusion,  violets,  ragged - 
robins,  and  all  the  host  of  spring  beauties.  Later  on 
flourish  the  fragrant  hawthorn  or  Mayflower,  honeysuckle, 
wild  rose,  the  gorgeous  fox-glove,  and  in  the  autumn  clus- 
ters of  hazelnuts,  and  great  bunches  of  blackberries.  I 
was  never  tired  of  these  rambles.  Day  after  day  we  took 
some  of  them — now  to  the  pretty  villages  of  Plympton 
and  Plympton  St.  Mary's,  where  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds 
was  born — both  very  ancient,  with  ruins  of  an  old  castle 
and  some  remains  of  monastic  buildings  that  existed  before 
the  conquest.  Other  rambles  took  us  to  Horrabridge, 
Marsh  Mills,  and  many  similar  places  ;  but  I  should  only 
tantalize  you  with  description  and  my  unbounded  delight 
in  it  all,  debarred  as  you  are  from  the  realization. 

I  saw  some  capital  steeplechase  races  at  South  Brent ; 
no  professional  riders  or  jockeys,  but  all  the  horses  belong- 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  61 

ing  to  farmers  or  country  gentry,  and  ridden  by  their 
owners.  The  day  was  cool  and  bright,  the  landscape  of 
the  greenest  green  ;  horses,  some  of  them  first  rate  and 
well  ridden,  jumping  in  good  style  over  a  much  diversified 
track,  with  a  pale,  tea-coloured  Dartmoor  stream,  clear  as 
crystal,  bounding  one  side  of  the  course.  It  was  altogether 
a  most  enjoyable  day. 

Apropos  of  racing,  I  saw  for  the  first  time  in  my  life 
some  bicycle  races  in  the  drill-yard  of  the  Ragland  Bar- 
racks, a  noble  pile  of  buildings,  the  great  event  of  the 
day  being  a  five-mile  race,  time,  eighteen  minutes,  ending 
in  a  dead  heat. 

One  day  we  embarked  at  the  Barbican  in  a  small 
steamer,  and  went  up  the  river  Plym,  landing  at  Oreston, 
and  walked  far  into  the  country,  and  through  the  pretty 
villages  of  Turn  Chapel,  and  Hooe  ;  the  beautiful  grounds 
of  Radford,  where  I  plucked  my  first  bit  of  fragrant 
"  May,"  past  some  noble  fortifications  on  the  breezy  up- 
land overlooking  the  Sound,  and  back  home,  having  com- 
pleted many  miles. 

Another  trip  took  us  over  Brunei's  celebrated  tubular 
bridge  across  the  romantic  Tainar  to  the  quaint  old 
borough  town  of  Saltash,  in  Cornwall,  whose  Mayor  takes 
precedence  of  the  Mayor  of  Plymouth.  Old  houses,  with 
balconies  and  balustrades,  rise  one  above  another  from 
the  river's  brink  in  streets  so  steep  that  iron  posts  are 
put  at  short  intervals  across  some  of  them  to  prevent 
vehicles  going  down,  as  they  never  could  come  up  again. 
The  climate  is  said  to  be  most  salubrious,  so  clear  and 
bright  as  often  to  remind  you  of  the  Sunny  South.  Its 
old  church  is  most  interesting,  and  contains  many  tablets 


62  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

to  naval  officers  killed  in  action  or  lost  at  sea.  The  fish- 
wives of  Saltash  once  bore  the  reputation  of  being 
amongst  the  best  boatmen  in  the  "  West  Countrie,"  and 
have  on  more  than  one  -occasion  borne  off  the  prize  in 
regattas. 

I  must  now  tell  you  somewhat  of  longer  excursions  in 
which  M.,  A.  and  the  elder  children  accompanied  us, 
made  in  a  wagonette  with  a  pair  of  horses,  N.  officiating 
as  our  Jehu,  some  at  this  time,  and  others  on  a  subse- 
quent visit  in  the  autumn.  First  of  a  trip  to  Leamoor 
clay-mills,  and  Dartmoor,  celebrated  for  the  production 
of  beautiful  porcelain  clay  found  in  the  form  of  vast 
deposits  of  disintegrated  granite,  the  result  of  long  ages  of 
storm,  rain  and  sunshine,  which,  after  numerous  wash- 
ings, is  finally  made  into  large  oblong  blocks,  and  shipped 
to  all  parts  of  the  world,  even,  they  tell  me,  to  China. 
Many  of  the  brilliant  streams  that  take  their  rise  on  Dart- 
moor are  pressed  into  the  service,  and  their  beauty  spoiled 
by  being  made  to  look  like  streams  of  milk  and  water,  for 
the  clay-works  are  numerous. 

It  was  a  lovely  day,  sunshiny  and  bright — quite  cool 
enough  for  us  tropical  plants,  but  we  were  well  wrapped 
up.  The  horses  spun  along  over  splendid  roads  and 
country  lanes,  past  villages  and  country  seats,  with  such  a 
profusion  of  wild  flowers  I  scarce  can  convey  to  you  the 
reality.  By  noon  we  were  on  the  open  moor,  dreary  in 
its  awful  solitude  were  it  not  for  the  works  and  houses  con- 
nected therewith  dotted  here  and  there  over  the  slope  of 
some  hillside.  Attaining  the  summit  of  the  plateau,  with 
the  cool,  invigorating  breeze  making  the  blood  dance  in 
our  veins,  we  drove  for  a  few  miles  on  a  fair  road,  by  the 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  63 

side  of  which  I  saw  a  rude  stone  cross,  said  to  mark  the 
spot  where  some  poor  wretch  perished  in  a  storm  long 
years  ago.  Retracing  our  track  we  got  under  the  lee  of  an 
old  stone  wall,  on  the  soft  velvety  turf  of  the  upland,  a 
crystal  stream  of  water  close  by,  and  there  we  lunched — 
you  may  be  sure  not  before  we  wanted  it,  for  the  clear, 
keen  air  had  made  us  ravenously  hungry.  Taking  an- 
other route  on  our  return,  we  passed  through  Ivybridge 
and  Plympton — the  former  one  of  the  most  charming 
villages  I  have  ever  seen — and  so  back  to  Mutley,  just 
after  sunset,  having  spent  a  most  enjoyable  day.  While 
on  Dartmoor  I  may  as  well  tell  you  of  a  later  excursion, 
made  in  the  autumn  by  the  same  party,  and  in  the  same 
manner.  This  time  our  route  lay  in  a  different  direction, 
into  a  vaster  expanse  of  this  wild  moor,  in  its  desolate 
grandeur,  and  among  streams  not  defiled  by  clay  washings, 
and  surrounded  with  the  mighty  tors  for  which  it  is 
celebrated.  Dartmoor  extends  twenty-two  miles  north 
and  south,  breadth  about  twenty  miles,  and  height  above 
the  sea  ranging  from  1 ,500  to  over  2,000  feet.  It  is  utterly 
barren  and  rocky,  with  in  many  places  dangerous  bogs ; 
the  greater  part,  except  in  the  valleys,  clothed  with 
coarse  grass,  heather,  whortleberry  and  moss. 

Tradition  says  it  was  once  covered  with  a  vast  forest, 
but  this  I  doubt.  Where  could  trees  have  found  suste- 
nance in  the  boggy,  stony  and  scanty  soil?  I  imagine 
the  story  comes  from  its  having  been  proclaimed  a  royal 
forest  by  the  Conqueror,  as  it  once  abounded  in  wild  game, 
especially  deer.  The  Dart,  Teign,  Tavey,  Taw,  and 
numerous  other  smaller  streams  drain  from  this  huge 
store  of  peat  and  moss,  most  of  them  well  stocked  with 


64  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

speckled  trout.  The  most  striking  features  of  Dartmoor 
are  the  tors,  enormous  blocks  and  masses  of  granite, 
crowning  the  hills  around  in  all  sorts  of  wild,  fantastic 
shapes,  with  strange  names,  redolent  of  the  soil  and  of 
our  "pagan  British  and  Saxon  ancestors.  Prominent 
among  them  are  Yes  Tor,  Cawsand  Beacon,  Hes  Tor, 
Whiten  Tor,  and  a  host  of  others.  On  one  of  the  loftiest 
is  the  ruin  of  an  ancient  hermitage,  from  whence  it  is  said 
a  beacon -light  flashed  forth  to  those  on  land  the  arrival 
of  the  great  Armada.  Excellent  roads  have  of  late  years 
been  made  across  it  in  various  directions,  to  Tavistock, 
Moreton  Hampstead,  Ashburton,  Princetown  (the  Dart- 
moor convict  establishment),  Two  Bridges,  etc.;  the  two 
latter  places  are  on  the  wild  expanse  of  moor.  The 
day  was  cool  and  gusty,  with  flying  scud  and  an  occa- 
sional shower,  blue  sky  and  bright  sun  flashing  in  between. 
I  am  afraid  you  and  I  would  have  pronounced  it  stormy  ; 
but,  bless  you,  these  English  folk  do  not  mind  a  little 
rain,  and  well  for  them.  They  just  put  on  an  ulster  or 
overcoat,  stout  walking  shoes — no  rubbers — and  off  they 
go,  defying  the  elements.  It  was  a  constant  source  of 
surprise  to  me  to  see  the  crowd  of  well-dressed  men  and 
women  in  the  streets  in  what,  to  us,  was  quite  inclement 
weather,  the  women's  cheeks  gleaming  with  health  and 
exercise. 

Well,  to  resume  :  Off  we  went,  over  good  roads,  through 
pretty  villages,  and  ere  long  attained  the  plateau  of  the 
breezy  moor,  frequently  crossing  and  re-crossing  Sir  Fran- 
cis Drake's  Leap.  Turning  to  our  right  we  get  to  Prince- 
town,  where  the  celebrated  Dartmoor  Prison  was  built 
for  French  prisoners  in    the  Napoleonic  wars,  and  of 


OUR  PIL&RIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  65 

which  such  wild  tales  are  told.  "  For  seven  months  in 
the  year,"  says  a  French  writer,  "  it  is  a  vraie  Siberie,  cov- 
ered with  unmelting  snow.  When  the  snows  go  away 
the  mists  appear."  "  Imagine  the  tyranny  of  perfide  Albion 
in  sending  human  beings  to  such  a  place."  Notwith- 
standing this  terrible  account,  there  are  some  very  pretty 
summer  residences  in  the  neighborhood  ;  but  I  do  not 
think  I  should  care  to  live  there  when  a  snow-storm  was 
howling  across  the  waste.  It  is  there  that  many  an  un- 
fortunate has  been  lost  on  that  dreary  moor  in  snow  or 
fog,  and  that  a  company  of  soldiers  were  once  near 
perishing  when  marching  through  this  very  place.  What 
it  was  ere  roads  were  made,  when  travellers  not  only  had 
to  encounter  storms  and  tempests,  but  bog  as  well,  is 
awful  to  contemplate.  The  prison,  which  is  very  vast, 
has  been  greatly  improved  of  late  years  ;  little  doubt  but 
it  was  needed  much,  and  a  considerable  extent  of  ground 
on  a  slope  below  is  in  good  cultivation.  This  was  not 
our  destination,  however,  and  as  we  had  none  of  the 
above  trouble  to  contend  with,  off  we  went  again  to  Two 
Bridges,  where  is  only  a  roadside  inn,  two  or  three  cot- 
tages, and  an  ancient  stone  bridge  of  two  arches  over  the 
clear,  brawling  waters  of  the  Dart,  here  well  stocked  with 
trout,  and  a  great  resort  of  lovers  of  the  "  gentle  craft "  in 
the  season,  as  the  numerous  fly -rods  hanging  in  the  pas- 
sages of  the  inn  testified.  I  saw  several  "  whipping  the 
water,"  but  I  fancy  without  much  result,  the  day  being 
too  cool  and  bright.  I  should  like  much  to  spend  a 
couple  of  weeks  here  in  the  season.  We  lunched  on  the 
margin  of  the  stream,  the  day  being  fair  now,  with  blue 
sky,  the  fleecy  clouds  driving  across  it  above  our  heads. 


66  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

That  important  function  over,  N.,  I,  and  M.  T. — a  bonnie 
English  lass  of  sixteen  summers — started  off  for  a  walk 
of  about  a  mile  and  a  half,  over  the  wild  moor,  to  visit 
Wistman's  Wood,  supposed  to  be  part  of  an  ancient 
Druidical  forest,  and  cursed  by  one  of  the  former  priest- 
hood, since  which  time  the  trees  have  never  grown.  Pass- 
ing through  the  gate  of  a  small  farm-house  yard,  opened 
for  us  by  a  little  flaxen-haired  maiden  of  four  or  five  sum- 
mers, mindful  of  prospective  pennies,  with  her  ten- 
year  old  brother  for  a  guide,  off  we  set  over  the  wild  moor 
and  bog.  He  was  active  as  a  mountain  sheep,  bounding 
from  stone  to  stone,  or  from  one  dry,  secure  spot  to  an- 
other, inviting  us  in  west  country  Doric  to  follow,  as  we 
did  to  our  best  ability  ;  but,  alas !  we  were  not  very  suc- 
cessful, and  slipped,  floundered,  and  fell  into  crevices* 
between  stones  concealed  by  moss  or  grass,  or  into  soft, 
boggy  places,  over  our  shoes  in  water,  M .  T's  clear,  girl- 
ish laugh  ringing  out  merrily  on  the  crisp  air  whenever 
she  herself,  or  one  of  her  elders,  came  unmistakably  to 
grief. 

Arrived  at  the  spot  we  found  growing,  in  the  midst  of 
gigantic  blocks  of  granite,  a  number  of  very  ancient  oak 
trees — I  should  say  several  hundred  of  them — covered 
with  long,  parasitical  moss,  and  none  of  them  more  than 
eight  or  ten  feet  in  height,  yet  their  weird,  gnarled  old 
branches  stretched  out  on  either  side  for  quite  as  many 
feet.  How  they  grow,  what  they  are  rooted  in,  or  how 
they  stand  the  storms  of  this  desolate  region,  passeth  my 
comprehension.  I  took  one  of  the  largest  and  grimmest- 
looking  of  these  by  a  limb,  and  was  able  to  rock  it  to  and 
fro  in  its  stony  bed.      Curiously  enough,  there  are  no 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  67 

young  trees  coming  up  to  take  the  place  of  these  ancient 
monarchs,  though  the  rocks  among  which  they  grow  are 
covered  with  a  dense  mass  of  creeping  and  parasitical 
plants,  and  you  have  to  be  very  careful  that  you  do  not 
slip  between  the  boulders  up  to  your  chin — I  did  up  to 
my  waist — in  the  summer  time  not  very  pleasant,  as  the 
country  folk  say  the  wood  is  full  of  snakes  and  adders — 
"  long  cripples  "  they  call  them — and  is  a  great  resort  of 
foxes.  How  we  did  enjoy  it  all !  Sky  blue  as  sapphire, 
the  vast  expanse  of  Dartmoor,  with  its  grand  hills  and  tors 
around,  and  the  awful  solitude  of  the  place;  the  fresh 
breeze,  full  of  health,  driving  the  cloud-shadows  across 
the  moorland ;  the  grim,  weird,  gnarled  old  trees,  with 
their  secrets  of  the  ages,  at  our  feet,  and  beneath  them 
the  dancing  Dart,  sparkling  in  the  sunshine  and  hurrying 
downward  to  the  sea. 

After  an  enjoyable  cup  of  tea,  with  Devonshire  cream, 
at  the  inn,  we  started  back  as  usual  about  sunset,  and  not 
an  ache  or  pain  resulting  from  our  wet  feet  or  tumbling 
about  amid  the  granite  blocks  of  Wistman's  Wood.  "  'Tis 
a  whish  old  place." 

A  few  days  subsequently  the  same  party  started  on  an 
excursion  to  the  Duke  of  Bedford's  beautiful  cottage  and 
grounds  of  Endsleigh.  The  day  was  decidedly  boisterous, 
with  a  strong  breeze  from  the  westward,  and  looked  rainy 
enough,  but  as  our  time  was  limited  we  braved  the  weather 
and  went.  Our  route  lay  for  some  distance  over  the  same 
part  of  Dartmoor  as  before,  till  we  came  to  Roboro,  thence 
past  Horrabridge  and  other  villages,  to  the  charmingly  sit- 
uated old  town  of  Tavistock.  Here  we  stayed  awhile  at 
an  excellent  inn  to  rest  and  bait  our  horses. 


68  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

While  they  are  feeding,  I  will  tell  you  something  of 
what  N.  and  I  saw  and  learned  in  a  short  stroll  we  took. 
The  town  lies  in  a  trough  of  the  hills  on  the  banks  of  the 
picturesque  Tavy,  and  formerly  was  of  much  importance 
from  a  magnificent  abbey  of  Benedictines,  founded  by 
Ordgar,  Earldorman  of  Devonshire  (son  of  the  infamous 
Elfrida),  in  the  tenth  century,  and  endowed  with  vast 
wealth  and  lands.  Some  of  the  ancient  buildings  are  still 
to  be  seen  near  the  inn,  and  in  the  yard,  used  as  out- 
houses, part  of  the  old  refectory.  At  the  dissolution  the 
site,  and  nearly  all  the  manors  that  belonged  to  the  abbey 
were  bestowed  by  Henry  VIII.  upon  John  Lord  Russell, 
whose  descendant,  the  Duke  of  Bedford,  is  now  the  owner. 
The  church  opposite  the  inn  is  well  worth  a  visit.  The 
tower,  with  battlemented  parapet  and  pinnacle,  stands  on 
four  arches,  and  is  thus  a  campanile,  being  one  of  the 
three  or  four  to  be  found  in  England.  Some  human 
bones  of  great  size  were  shown  us,  found  in  a  stone  coffin 
in  the  old  abbey,  and  said  to  be  those  of  its  founder. 
Also,  we  saw  part  of  an  old  Bible  (the  title  page  was  gone), 
with  the  chain  still  attached  to  it  that  used  to  fasten  it  in 
the  body  of  the  church,  so  that  it  could  be  "  read  and 
understanded  of  the  people."  The  town  is  very  pretty, 
and  has  many  charming  walks  about  it,  particularly  one 
by  the  riverside,  outside  the  abbey  wall.  In  this  wall  is 
a  gateway  where,  it  is  said,  a  duel  was  fought,  in  which  a 
former  knight  of  the  family  of  Fitz,  slew  Sir  Nicholas  Flan- 
ning,  both,  I  suppose,  west  country  notables.  The  place 
has  suffered  much  in  war  and  siege — probably  from  the 
wealth  of  the  abbey — from  the  time  of  the  Danes,  who 
burnt  and  plundered  it,  down  to  the  Parliamentary  wars, 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  69 

when  it  was  held  for  the  King,  but  is   peaceful  as  you 
could  wish  it  now. 

It  rained  and  blew  hard  enough  during  our  stay  here. 
The  ladies  of  our  party  did  not  go  out,  preferring  the  cozy 
warmth  of  the  inn  fire,  and  yet  we  saw  a  man  trolling  for 
salmon  in  the  river.  After  noon  it  cleared  up,  and  the 
horses  being  rested,  on  we  went,  ascending  from  the  town 
into  a  country  more  beautiful,  if  possible,  than  any  we 
had  seen,  through  the  villages  of  Buckland,  Monachorum 
and  Milton  Abbot,  with  their  charming  gardens,  pretty 
cottages,  and  yew  trees  cut  into  the  most  fantastic  shapes 
I  ever  saw.  Near  by — but  time  would  not  permit  a  visit 
— is  Buckland  Abbey,  the  present  house  built  on  the  ruins 
of  an  old  Cistercian  monastery  by  the  great  circumnavi- 
gator, Sir  Francis  Drake,  whose  statue — a  replica  of  that 
on  Plymouth  Hoe — stands  in  Tavistock,  where  he  was 
born. 

We  were  soon  at  the  entrance  of  the  beautiful  grounds 
of  Endsleigh,  anciently  Innesleigh,  where  art  and  nature 
have  certainly  seemed  to  vie  one  with  the  other  to  make 
an  earthly  paradise.  The  cottage,  for  it  is  nothing  more, 
is  picturesquely  irregular  and  pretty,  and  no  doubt  com- 
fortable ;  but  the  vast  extent  of  grounds,  with  miles  of 
roads  and  paths  through  them,  the  charming  variety  of 
hill  and  dale,  the  perfect  landscape  gardening  ;  acres  upon 
acres  of  rhododendrons,  azaleas,  hydrangeas,  with  every 
variety  of  flowering  shrubs  and  trees ;  the  land  sloping 
gently  down  to  the  Tamar,  winding  its  circuitous  course 
below,  makes  a  whole  it  would  be  hard  to  excel.  Through 
the  larger  trees  on  the  higher  land  are  cut  vistas,  giving 
exquisite  views  into  the  vale  below,  where,  on  a  terraced 


70  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

lawn  of  turf,  now  gorgeous  with  masses  of  brilliant  autumn 
flowers,  stands  the  cottage,  with  the  rose  walk,  a  long 
avenue  of  trailing  roses,  on  the  frame-work,  arching  over- 
head, and  the  cypress  walk,  another  one  of  noble  trees, 
ending  in  an  exceedingly  pretty  grotto,  lined  with  moss 
and  shells,  in  which  bubbles  up  the  clear  stream  of  the 
"  wishing  well."  Lower  down  still,  nearly  on  a  level  with 
the  river,  on  the  bank  of  a  pretty  fish-pond,  stands  a 
keeper's  cottage,  rustic  and  thatched,  the  porch  covered 
with  honeysuckle  and  trailing  roses.  Here  you  can  get 
your  kettle  boiled,  and  every  accommodation  for  picnic- 
ing.  Near  by  is  the  dairy  dell,  named  so  from  the  most 
charming  dairy — shaped  like  a  small  temple — I  ever  saw, 
but  I  do  not  imagine  it  has  been  much  used.  All  the 
tables  have  fine  marble  slabs  covering  them,  and  the  milk- 
pans  are  of  exquisitely  painted  china ;  clear,  crystal 
streams  of  water  running  through  it  in  all  necessary 
directions,  around  tables,  and  floor  paved  with  Minton 
tiles.  A  Swiss  cottage,  in  the  upper  part  of  the  grounds, 
was  unfortunately  closed,  as  the  woman  in  charge  had 
gone  to  visit  some  relatives.  It  is  charmingly  situated, 
and  judging  from  the  number  of  names  cut  in  the  tables 
for  the  use  of  visitors,  that  on  the  verandas  must  be  a 
favorite  resort  in  the  summer  months.  Among  the  names 
I  noticed  many  of  our  cousins  from  the  United  States  of 
America.  Here  is  shown  an  antique  china  jug  from  which 
the  Queen  has  drunk,  but  it  has  a  secret — I  suppose  im- 
parted to  her — that  anyone  not  knowing  it  cannot  drink 
from  it  without  spilling  the  contents  over  themselves. 

We  are  charmed  almost  beyond  expression  with  the 
beautiful  scene;  but  if  so  lovely  as  late  as  this  in  the  sea- 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  71 

son,  what  must  it  be  when  the  apparently  endless  extent 
of  rhododendrons  are  in  bloom,  and  the  wealth  of  summer 
flowers  ?  Admission  is  obtained  by  getting  an  order  from 
the  Bedford  office  at  Tavistock,  and  the  people  in  charge 
are  very  civil  and  attentive.  It  was  a  mystery  to  me  how, 
in  such  almost  inclement  weather  as  I  thought  it  to-day, 
the  dahlias,  mignonette,  etc.,  bloom  so  exquisitely  in  the 
cottage  gardens,  and  the  cottager's  children,  looking  rosy 
and  bright,  run  about  the  lanes  seeking  hazelnuts  and 
blackberries.  If  I  were  a  flower  I  don't  think  I  would 
bloom  at  such  a  time.  If  you  are  not  weary  of  excursions 
(we  never  were),  I  think  I  may  as  well  finish  those  in  the 
u  West  countrie  "  before  we  leave  for  "  town." 

Well,  the  same  party  as  before,  and  by  the  same  means 
of  conveyance,  left  on  an  early  day  in  September  for  a 
land-cruise  into  Cornwall,  or  "down-along,"  as  Cornish 
folk  say.  Crossed  the  Sound  by  steam  ferry-boat — boat 
hauled  along  by  chain  cables  lying  on  the  bottom  and 
passing  over  a  peck-drum — from  Key  ham  to  Tor  Point ; 
thence  passing  through  Tharouts  to  St.  John's,  at  the  head 
of  lake  of  the  same  name;  through  Auderton  and  Cremyll, 
skirting  Mount  Edgcumbe  Park,  with  its  beautiful  grounds 
and  herds  of  deer,  up  hill  to  Maker  Church.  On  yet, 
through  the  narrowest  and  most  winding  lanes  we  had 
yet  seen,  but  rich  with  wild  flowers,  to  the  trim  villages 
of  Kingsand  and  Carsand— the  home  of  fisher  folk,  on 
Carsand  Bay.  Had  we  met  any  vehicle  in  these  deep, 
narrow  lanes  what  could  we  have  done?  As  it  was  we 
nearly  got  into  a  "  pilikia  "  in  the  funny,  uneven  streets 
of  the  above  quaint  villages.  A  collier  schooner  was 
lying  in  the  mud  in  the  bay  discharging,  and  a  procession 


72  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

of  carts  from  her  coming  up  a  steep  hill  into  the  town 
was  unseen  by  us  in  its  crooked  street ;  but  the  prescience 
of  a  post-office  uniform  saved  us.  He  had  seen  us  coming, 
and  when  the  coal  carts  came  in  sight,  ran  back  to  warn 
us,  so  that  we  were  able  to  pull  up  in  a  sort  of  corner  till 
the  unwieldy  things  had  gone  by,  encroaching  on  the 
pavement  and  nearly  into  people's  parlor  windows.  Up 
still  we  went  to  the  village  of  Rame,  on  the  head  of  the 
same  name,  with  its  sturdy  old  church  that  has  braved 
centuries  of  storm,  and  is  one  of  the  principal  landmarks 
for  reaching  Plymouth  Sound. 

What  a  perfect  day  it  was  ! — a  pleasant  west  wind  blow- 
ing ;  the  vast  expanse  of  land  and  sea  stretching  far  up  the 
coast  of  Devon  and  down  the  Cornish  coast  to  Falmouth 
Bay  ;  blue  sky,  blue  ocean  flecked  with  sunshine,  and 
numerous  white  sails  lying  far  below  us,  and  the  sea  birds 
— tenants  of  the  cliffs — wheeling  and  sailing  around  and 
over  us.  On  a  headland  near  was  the  ruin  of  an  ancient 
chapel  and  hermitage,  where  a  good  old  monk  once  trimmed 
his  beacon  light  to  warn  the  mariner  off  the  rocky  coast. 
The  many  churches  in  strange  out-of-the-way  places,  or  as 
central  points  to  scattered  country  hamlets,  show  how 
thoughtful  they  were  for  the  spiritual  as  well  as  the  tem- 
poral wants  of  their  flocks  in  by-gone  days.  After  an 
enjoyable  couple  of  hours,  amid  the  varied  heaths,  yellow 
gorse  and  passes  of  this  elevated  spot,  our  horses  being 
rested,  down  we  went  again,  past  farms  and  orchards,  rich 
with  coming  grain  and  fruit,  through  a  country  lane,  till 
we  came  out  on  the  fine  military  road  along  the  cliffs  over 
Whitsand  Bay.  What  glorious  views,  and  how  the 
horses  did  spin  along,  seeming  to  feel  the  influence  of  the 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.          73 


noble  scene  and  splendid  weather  !    Many  holiday-makers 
were  about  the  cliffs,  and  on  the  beach  below  in  some 
little  coves  bordered  with  rugged  rocks— probably  towns- 
folk staying  at  some  of  the  farm-houses  near.     I  almost 
envied  them  the  glorious  sea,  and  yet  it  has  sad  memories 
of  wrecks  and  disasters,  below  us  in  one  place  being  a 
monument    to    the    memory  of  a    gentleman    and    his 
two  sons  who  were  lost  in  the  quicksands.     Having  left 
behind  us  in  a  secluded  bay  a  small  fort  and  coastguard 
station,  after  a  few  miles'  drive  we  turned  inland  to  the 
important  casemated  fort  of  Teegantle,  and  thence  through 
the  village  of  Anthony,  back  to  Tor  Point  and  Plymouth. 
Such  exquisite  days  as  this  do  not  often  occur  in  one's 
existence,  so  I  suppose  we  appreciate  them  the  more. 

Now  I  am  going  to  take  you  on  an  extended  excursion, 
even  to  the  Land's-end  ;  and  as  it  was  likely  to  be  a  more 
fatiguing  trip  than  either  of  the  preceding,  M.  and  A. 
decided  to  stay  at  home,  Mari,  N.,  and  I  making  it  alone. 
So  on  a  clear,  bright  day  in  the  middle  of  September,  we 
left  the   Millbay   station  at  4  A.  m,   crossing  Brunei's 
famous  bridge,  through  Saltash,  seeing  in  the  grey  light 
the  junction  of  the  Tamar  and  Tary ,  past  Ince  Woods  and 
Ince  Castle,  now  a  farm  house,  but  once  a  square  mansion 
with  a  tower  at  either  angle,  in  which  a  member  of  the 
Killigrew  family  is  said  to  have  kept  four  wives  at  once, 
each  in  perfect  ignorance  of  the  existence  of  the  other 
three.     On  through  woods,  orchards  laden  with  fruits,  by 
farms  and  mills,  we  pass  the  straggling  old  towns  of  St. 
Germans,  Menheniot  and  Liskeard— close  to  which  is  the 
"Well  of  St.  Keyne,"   celebrated  by  Southey— Los  Mi- 
thiel,  and  lots  of  other  places  with  queer  Cornish  names, 


74  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

till  we  come  to  Truro,  a  place  of  some  importance.  The 
country  has  latterly  much  changed  in  appearance  from 
the  soft  beauty  of  the  landscape  that  greeted  oar  eyes 
when  the  sun  rose.  It  is  milder  and  more  broken.  Fre- 
quent tall  chimneys,  big  wheels  and  ugly  piles  of  earth 
and  refuse,  tell  that  we  are  among  the  tin  mines  of  Corn- 
wall. Time  would  not  permit  us  to  visit  Tintagel — for 
we  had  but  this  day — Camelford,  said  to  be  the  Camelot 
of  the  Idylls,  and  the  Arthurian,  haunted  spots  round 
about  us  ;  so  on  we  rushed,  getting  to  Penzance  at  9  a.  m. 
What  a  charming,  quaint  old  place  it  is,  and  so  beautifully 
situated  on  Mount's  Bay.  N.  fell  desperately  in  love  with 
it,  and  was  for  bringing  A.  and  the  "  little  maidens  "  down 
here  immediately.  It  was  full  of  visitors  and  excur- 
sionists, but  as  we  did  not  wish  to  join  the  motley  and 
rather  noisy  crowds  that  start  for  Land's-end  in  huge 
four-horse  busses,  or  brakes,  that  await  them  at  the  sta- 
tion, we  chartered  a  trap  and  driver  on  moderate  terms 
to  take  us  on. 

After  a  good  breakfast  at  a  comfortable  inn,  near  a 
curious  old  town-hall,  in  a  steep  street  named  "  Jew 
Market" — everything  is  curious  here — we  sallied  forth 
to  see  the  town,  and  give  our  before-mentioned  friends 
the  start.  It  did  not  take  us  long,  but  it  is  very  charm- 
ingly situated  on  hill-sides,  sloping  down  the  beautiful 
bay,  with  Mount  St.  Michael's  castle-crowned  islet  stand- 
ing about  a  mile  from  the  beach.  There  is  little  doubt 
but  this  is  the  very  castle  where  the  renowned  "  Jack-the- 
Giant-Killer  "  slew  the  great  Cornish  Giant  Blunderbore. 
Tradition  says  the  Mount  was  then  some  five  or  six  miles 
from  shore,  and  that  it  was  caused  by  the  breaking  of 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  75 

Mrs.  Blunderbore's  apron-strings  while  carrying  an  apron- 
ful  of  rocks  across  the  bay.  Its  present  possessor,  Mr. 
St.  Aubyn,  has  nothing  of  the  ogre  about  him,  and  visitors 
are  always  welcome,  but  not  as  of  yore,  for  sinister  pur- 
poses. The  Mount  is  attainable  at  low  water  by  a  cause- 
way, but  how  folks  get  to  the  castle  on  its  summit  with- 
out an  elevator — or  "lift,"  as  English  people  call  them  — 
passes  my  comprehension  on  looking  at  it  from  the  land. 
There  is  a  fine  Marine  Parade  built  facing  the  sea,  with 
very  nice  hotels  and  lodging  houses,  their  fronts  embow- 
ered in  jasmine,  fuschias  and  roses,  the  climate  being  so 
exceedingly  mild  and  salubrious.  While  strolling  here 
the  aforesaid  brakes  came  along  with  merry  crowds  of 
twenty  or  more  in,  and  on,  each  of  them,  and  all  in  turn 
stayed  to  be  photographed  by  one  or  other  of  the  many 
"  artists  "  lying  in  wait  to  pick  up  'Arry's  stray  sixpences. 
And  yet,  only  a  short  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago 
Turkish  pirates  landed  here  and  carried  off  about  sixty 
of  the  people.  What  a  haul  they  would  have  had  to-day, 
but  how  about  tbe  quality  as  slaves?  No  doubt  the 
bonny,  rosy-cheeked  English  lasses  would  be  appreciated 
by  their  Moslem  captors. 

Our  pleasant  stroll  over,  we  left,  skirting  along  one 
side  of  the  bay  through  a  pretty  straggling  fishing  village, 
and  were  soon  in  the  open  country  among  the  fields,  and 
orchards  now  laden  with  fruit.  Asking  our  Jehu  if  we 
could  purchase  some,  we  got  for  reply,  "  Na  surj  they  all 
goes  to  Lunnun  " — insatiate  London.  It  is  so  with  every- 
thing, as  packages  of  fish,  fruit,  etc.,  at  every  railway 
station  testify  !  Passing  some  pretty  villages,  and  notic- 
ing on  the  roadside  some  ancient  monumental  stones,  and 


76  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

a  wayside  cross,  we  came  to  a  steep  hill  with  a  notice- 
board  and  the  inscription,  "  Cyclists  are  warned  that  this 
hill  is  dangerous."  At  the  bottom  of  it  is  an  old  inn  with 
thatched  roof,  bearing  the  ominous  name  of  Catch-all. 
Turning  to  the  left  we  were  soon  at  St.  Busyan,  where  is 
one  of  the  finest  old  churches  in  the  country.  Outside  of 
the  gate  is  an  ancient  cross  on  a  walled  basement,  and 
in  the  churchyard  another,  raised  ori  steps,  bearing  a  rude 
figure  of  the  Saviour,  and  the  date  IIII.  In  the  building, 
which  has  a  square,  low  crenellated  tower,  probably  for 
defence  in  wild  times  past,  like  most  of  the  Cornish 
churches,  are  the  remains  of  what  once  must  have  been  a 
magnificently  carved  wood-screen,  some  of  which,  richly 
painted  and  gilt  with  grotesque  figures,  and  demons,  amid 
grapes  and  foliage,  boldly  carved,  still  stands.  Within 
the  screen  is  a  row  of  rude  oak  stalls,  called  'k  Misereres," 
the  seats  of  which  are  hung  on  a  pivot  in  their  center,  so 
that  if  the  occupant  was  inattentive,  or  nodded  over  his 
"  breviary "  on  some  warm  summer  afternoon,  he  was 
very  apt  to  be  deposited  upon  his  face  on  the  chancel 
flags.  On  the  lower  floor  is  carved  a  richly  floriated  cross, 
with  an  inscription  in  old  Norman-French,  as  follows  : 
"  Clarice,  the  wife  of  Geoffrey  de  Balleit  lies  here.  God  of 
her  soul  have  mercy.  Those  who  pray  for  her  soul  shall 
have  ten  days'  pardon." 

From  here  we  went  on,  leaving  the  leafy  lanes,  with 
hedge-rows  full  of  blackberries,  behind  us,  into  a  much 
wilder  and  more  desolate-looking  country,  with  the  fences 
formed  of  stones  and  turf,  large  fields,  each  with  a  big 
heap  of  farm  refuse,  earth,  and  manure  piled  in  its  center, 
and  covered  with  gigantic  cabbages,  to  be  used,  I  suppose, 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  77 


for  fodder  in  the  winter  time.  Grain  was  looking  poor 
and  stunted,  but  the  root-crops  apparently  good  ;  no  more 
trim  farm-houses  and  farming. 

Arriving  at  Teeryn  village,  we  found  our  excursionist 
friends  just  setting  out  for  Land's-end ;  so  leaving  horse 
and  trap  at  the  little  inn,  off  we  walked  for  the  Logan 
stone,  through  several  fields,  and  over  sundry  old  stone 
stiles.  Arrived  in  view  of  the  ocean,  the  grand  headland 
of  Teeryn  Dinas,  on  the  summit  of  which  the  stone  stands, 
is  before  you,  wild  and  magnificent  in  the  confused  and 
tumbled  masses  of  granite  of  which  it  is  composed.  To 
your  right  a  sandy  bay  where  the  Indian  and  French 
telegraph  cables  land,  and  the  only  place  for  many  miles, 
available  for  such  a  purpose,  on  this  wild  coast. 

Preceded  by  our  guide,  winding  through  rocks  and 
boulders  of  grotesque  shapes,  we  were  soon  at  the  foot  of  the 
vast  mass  of  granite,  on  top  of  which,  some  forty  feet  above 
you,  the  loggin  or  rocking  stone  is  poised.  It  is  an  enor- 
mous block  weighing  about  ninety  tons,  and  once  said  to 
be  so  evenly  balanced  that  a  mere  touch  would  cause  it 
to  rock,  and  yet  supposed  to  be  impossible  to  be  over- 
turned. Some  foolish  boast  of  this  sort  made  a  foolish 
Naval  Lieutenant,  Goldsmith — nephew  of  the  poet — over- 
turn it  with  its  cutter's  crew,  1824.  The  admiralty  or- 
dered him  to  replace  it,  which  he  did,  the  Government 
lending  the  necessary  machinery,  and  the  expense  being 
defrayed  by  public  subscription.  Holes,  in  which  sheer- 
legs  once  stood,  and  bolts  to  which  gyes  were  fast  once, 
are  still  to  be  seen.  Of  course  he  did  not  throw  it  to  the 
earth,  but  only  off  its  pivot  against  another  rock  ;  nor  did 
he  succeed  in  poising  it  so  evenly  that  it  will  move  as  it 


78  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

did  before.  Now  you  require  to  put  your  shoulder  against 
it  to  make  it  do  so.  I  did  not  try  it  myself,  but  N.  and 
the  guide  did.  The  situation  looks  altogether  too  perilous 
with  the  small  foothold  you  have,  and  the  awful  depth  to 
the  boulder-strewn  beach  below.  You  have  to  climb  up 
the  almost  precipitous  faces  of  two  great  rocks,  worn 
smooth  by  many  feet,  to  get  at  it.  A  rope  fastened  some- 
where above,  and  a  few  notches  cut  in  the  rock-face, 
would  make  it  comparatively  easy,  but  of  course  that 
would  not  suit  the  guides.  With  assistance  from  ours, 
and  from  N's  strong  arms,  I  managed  to  clamber  up,  but 
must  confess  to  an  eerie  sort  of  feeling  on  looking  down 
into  the  awful  chasms  between  the  rocks  below,  and  I 
felt  relief  when  on  terra  firma  again.  And  yet  some  of 
the  plucky  English  girls  clamber  up,  I  think  foolishly. 
Specimens  of  rare  and  beautiful  ferns  are  found  here  in 
the  almost  inaccessible  crevices  of  the  rocks,  one  of  which 
we  bought  from  an  "  old  salt,"  who,  as  a  boy,  had  "  held 
on"  to  a  hawser  when  Lieutenant  Goldsmith  was  expiat- 
ing the  consequences  of  his  feats. 

Horse  and  man  refreshed,  we  resumed  our  journey 
into  wilder  and  more  desolate  regions  still,  past  poor  and 
scattered  cottages,  with  stacks  of  peat-moss  and  furze — 
the  latter  kept  from  the  fury  of  the  winds,  that  at  times 
must  howl  across  this  waste,  by  great  stones  piled  on  top 
— intended  for  winter  use.  About  a  mile  from  our  destina- 
tion is  the  squalid  village  of  Treviscan,  consisting  of  a 
few  houses  built  of  cyclopean  blocks  of  granite  rudely 
wrought  by  hammer,  the  window  and  door  jambs,  and 
lintels  being  of  enormous  size.  They  are  thatched  with 
heather  or  gorse,  kept  in   its  place  by  great  stones.     I 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  79 

could  not  have*thought  such  human  residences  existed 
anywhere  in  England  ;  they  look  astf  they  had  been  there 
for  centuries,  and  one  wonders  who  were  the  builders,  and 
how  they  raised  the  heavy  stones.  We  are  soon  at  the 
famed  Land's-end  itself,  where  is  a  fair  inn  open  in  sum- 
mer only,  and  the  view  from  here,  with  the  Irish  Sea  on  one 
hand  and  the  English  Channel  on  the  other,  over  one  of 
the  sternest  rocky  coast  scenes  imaginable,  the  wild  ocean 
waves  one  hundred  and  twelve  feet  beneath,  is  almost 
indescribably  grand.  Rocks  of  most  fantastic  shapes,  and 
with  most  fantastic  names,  run  beyond  into  the  sea,  but 
detached  from  Seal  point,  on  which  you  may  lie  flat  on 
your  face,  and  look  into  and  shudder  at  the  awful  abyss 
and  turmoil  of  waters  at  its  base.  Before  I  had  got  close 
down  I  imagined  I  saw  many  of  the  folks  who  had  pre- 
ceded us,  on  some  of  the  outer  rocks.  A  nearer  view  showed 
me  the  rocks  were  detached  from  the  mainland,  and  my 
supposed  tourists,  regiments  of  great  sea  fowl  standing 
upright  and  looking  unconcernedly,  for  they  knew  they 
were  safe. 

The  descent  from  the  elevated  land  above  is  not  very 
easy,  the  short  grass  and  heather  being  slippery,  and  yet 
in  1804  a  dragoon  officer  had  the  temerity  to  ride  a 
spirited  mare  down  to  the  point.  The  beast  growing  rest- 
less, he  wisely  dismounted,  but  while  leading  her  back  by 
the  bridle  she  took  fright  and  backed  over  the  precipice. 
N.  would  not  suffer  me  to  lie  on  my  face  and  look  over 
it  without  holding  fast  to  my  legs,  rather  humiliating, 
wasn't  it?  We  were  fortunate  in  having  a  beautiful  day, 
with  the  sunlight  dancing  and  sparkling  on  the  waves  at 
sea,  and  as  they  rushed  in  masses  of  foam  on  the  weird 


80  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

basaltic  rocks  stretching  from  the  land,  or  on  the  slender 
shaft  of  the  Largesjiips  lighthouse  beyond — between 
which  and  the  shore  there  is  a  passage,  for  we  saw  a  trad- 
ing steamer  go  through  into  the  Bristol  Channel.  Clear  as 
it  was  we  could  not  see  the  Scilly  Islands,  which  a  Cor- 
nish tradition  says  were  once  connected  with  Cornwall  by 
a  tract  of  land  called  Lyonese — the  Idylls  again — contain- 
ing one  hundred  and  forty  parish  churches.  All  this  was 
submerged  in  one  night,  a  man  by  the  name  of  Trevillian 
alone  escaping  on  horseback  to  tell  the  tale.  On  the  bluff 
a  short  distance  above  is  a  small  cottage  where  curiosities 
in  the  shape  of  geological  specimens,  charms  made  of 
serpentine,  and  photographs,  are  sold,  kettles  boiled  for 
picnicers,  etc.  It  bears  a  sign,  on  one  side  of  which  is 
the  legend  "  The  first  house  in  England,"  and  on  the  other, 
"  The  last  house  in  England."  I  can  hardly  analyze  my 
thoughts  and  feelings  as  I  stood  here  with  the  vast  Atlan- 
tic stretching  in  front,  and  almost  around  us.  One  thought 
I  know  was  present,  that  it  was  the  nearest  spot  of  English 
earth  to  our  sunny  home  and  those  we  held  so  dear. 

Returning,  we  took  another  route  to  Sennen,  the  fine 
old  church  being  a  very  conspicuous  landmark  near  four 
hundred  feet  above  sea  level.  The  front  has  a  Latin  in- 
scription  setting  forth  that  "  This  church  was  dedicated 
on  the  festival  of  the  beheading  of  St.  John  the  Baptist, 
1441."  In  the  village,  near  the  church  and  a  few  yards 
from  the  road,  is  a  large  rock  called  "  Table  maen,"  on 
which  tradition  says  three — or  some  say  seven — Kings 
once  dined  together  on  a  journey  to  the  Land's-end,  about 
A.  D.  600.  Merlin  has  prophesied  that  a  larger  number 
will  meet  here  for  the  same  purpose  previous  to  the  de- 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.          81 

struction  of  the  world — Pela  paha !  Further  on,  an  an- 
cient wayside  stone  cross  is  seen,  and  several  Druidical 
stones,  among  them  a  circle  of  nineteen,  but  some  are 
fallen ;  these  are  called  the  "  Dawns  Maens,"  or  dancing 
stones,  and  said  to  be  young  women  punished  so  for  danc- 
ing on  Sunday.  In  a  field  across  the  road  are  two  large 
granite  pillars  ;  these  were  the  "  Pipers  "  on  the  occasion. 

How  full  this  land  of  Cornwall  is  of  legend  and  tradi- 
tion, and  so  peculiarly  rich  in  ancient  stone  crosses,  as 
well  as  Druidical  remains.  Every  place  has  its  own  wild 
tale,  and  little  wonder,  it  is  so  utterly  unlike  the  peaceful, 
beautiful  looking  country  the  traveller  must  pass  through 
to  attain  it.  Its  very  wildness  and  desolateness  must  have 
had  great  influence  on  the  fervid  imaginations  of  its  for- 
mer Celtic  inhabitants. 

Leaving  the  bold  sea  coast  and  turning  into  the  more 
agricultural  looking  part  of  the  country,  we  were  soon  at 
Penzance.  Took  train  again  for  Plymouth,  where  we  ar- 
rived at  8  p.  m.,  rather  tired,  but  having  had  a  day  so  per- 
fectly enjoyable  and  full  of  interest  that  I  shall  never 
forget  it. 

Now  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  go  back  with  me  for 
near  forty  years — don't  start — while  I  explain  a  little. 
When  M.  and  I  were  wed,  our  bridal  trip  was  to  have 
been  to  London,  but  sudden  and  unexpected  orders  came 
down  to  join  my  ship,  which  rendered  it  impossible.  A 
subsequent  chain  of  events  beyond  our  control  had  made 
it  equally  so  until  now,  but  as  this  had  ever  been  one  of 
our  day  dreams,  we  were  very  thankful  its  accomplish- 
ment was  near,  and  on  the  29th  of  May,  M's  birthday, 
started  for  London  on  our  wedding-trip,  solacing  ourselves 

6 


82  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

with  "  better  late  than  never."  It  was  with  no  small  trep- 
idation on  my  part  that  we  began  our  journey ;  neither 
of  us  had  even  visited  the  "  big  town,"  and  our  quiet  life 
of  many  years  past  had,  I  feared,  rather  unfitted  us  for 
what  we  were  about  to  experience.  Yet,  declining  with 
thanks  N's  offer  of  placarding  us  as  to  where  we  were  to 
be  returned  to  if  lost,  off  we  set  by  London  South- 
western Railway  for  town.  Skirting  the  western  side  of 
Dartmoor  brought  us  to  Tavistock,  Okehampton,  and 
Exeter;  thence  to  Yeovil,  and  Salisbury  in  Wiltshire,  with 
its  beautiful  cathedral  spire  four  hundred  feet  high  ;  past 
Salisbury  Plain,  on  which  are  the  vast  Druidical  remains 
of  Stonehenge,  and  made  classic  ground  by  the  genius  of 
Hannah  More.  Now  through  Hampshire,  past  Andover, 
and  Basingstoke,  into  Surrey. 

Let  me  pause  awhile  to  express  my  delight  at  the  beau- 
tiful country  we  are  rushing  through,  with  its  thoroughly 
cultivated  fields,  hawthorn  hedges,  that  lend  such  a  charm 
to  the  landscape  ;  dreamy  looking  cattle  in  lush  pastures 
by  quiet  rivers ;  and  general  appearance  of  high-class 
finished  farming — especially  noticeable  in  well  ordered 
rick-yards  and  farm  buildings — in  the  several  counties  on 
our  route.  Devon  is  not  noted  for  the  perfect  farming  of 
the  Midland  counties,  but  mayhap  that  gives  it  a  charm 
peculiarly  its  own.  How  pretty,  too,  are  the  many  coun- 
try stations  you  pass,  or  stop  at,  on  the  different  lines  of 
railways.  Trim,  well-kept  hedges  each  side  of  the  tracks, 
tasteful  buildings,  and  gardens  full  of  the  most  lovely  flow- 
ers ;  at  some  of  them  in  our  wanderings  up  and  down  the 
land,  we  saw  the  most  beautiful  roses  I  think  I  have  ever 
seen.     The  reason  for  the  perfection  of  these  gardens  is, 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         83 

that  the  railway  companies  give  prizes  to  the  station- 
masters  for  the  best  show.  The  Metropolitan,  and  other 
stations  in  large  towns,  though  many  of  them  very  fine 
buildings,  are  rendered  hideous  by  the  number  of  adver- 
tisements of  all  kinds  plastered  over  their  walls.  Colman's 
Mustard,  and  Keene's  Mustard,  seemed  to  me  to  be  the 
chief  offenders,  and  I  could  not  help  thinking  that  a 
foreigner  would  be  of  opinion  that  the  English  people 
lived  on  mustard !  It  is  often  difficult  amid  the  many 
advertisements  to  find  out  the  name  of  a  station.  A  story 
is  told  of  a  lady  asking  a  French  gentleman  who  was  her 
fellow  passenger,  what  station  they  had  arrived  at,  and  he 
replied  :    "  I  believe,  madame,  it  is  Colman's  Mustard." 

Well,  to  resume  :  On  we  go  past  Woking,  getting  into 
the  region  of  market-gardens,  schools,  mansions,  villages 
and  small  towns,  so  numerous  and  close  together,  you 
cannot  exactly  tell  where  one  ends  and  the  other  begins, 
till  suddenly  you  find  yourselves  running  over  tops  of 
houses  and  busy  streets  !  I  look  at  M.  and  say,  can  this 
be  London  ?  A  lady  fellow-traveller,  who  had  been  very 
kind  to  M.,  people  seemed  intuitively  to  know  that  we 
were  pilgrims,  and  strangers,  looks  up  with  a  quick  smile 
and  says,  "Yes,  sir,  this  is  London."  Little  need  for  the 
assurance,  as  looking  ahead  our  eyes  caught  sight  of  the 
noble  dome  of  St.  Paul's,  to  the  left  the  gilded  pinnacles 
of  the  palace  of  Westminster,  and  to  the  right  the  grim 
old  Tower,  "on  the  pool."  On  stopping  at  Waterloo- 
road  station,  I  was  for  a  while  dazed  by  the  apparent  con- 
fusion, yet  there  is  nothing  but  most  perfect  order  in 
these  great  metropolitan  termini ;  how,  otherwise,  could  a 
thousand  trains  pass  in   the  twenty-four  hours  through 


84  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

Clapham  Junction  and  no  accident  occur  ?  M.  was  cooler 
and  more  collected  than  I  was,  so  acting  on  her  advice, 
to  "  do  as  others  did,"  I  got  a  porter  to  call  a  cab,  and  in 
a  few  minutes  we  and  our  belongings  were  rolling  over 
Waterloo  bridge,  across  the  historic  Thames,  to  Craven 
street.  What  a  quiet,  pleasant  street  it  is,  with  its  com- 
fortable Queen  Anne's  houses — in  one  of  which,  two  or 
three  doors  below  us,  Benjamin  Franklin  once  lived,  as  an 
inscription  on  the  wall  relates.  Its  lower  end  debouches 
on  the  Thames  embankments  and  its  upper  into  the  roar 
and  traffic  of  the  Strand,  consequently  it  is  the  center  of 
everything,  and  close  to  everywhere,  and  yet  withal  so 
quiet. 


III. 


GREETINGS  over  and  ablutions  performed,  our  kind 
hostess — who  seemed  to  take  to  us  at  once — suggested 
that  as  we  had  an  hour  before  dinner,  we  should  stroll 
down  to  the  river,  and  back  by  Trafalgar  Square.  "  No 
fear  of  losing  our  way  ?"  "  Oh,  dear,  no  " — with  a  merry 
twinkle  in  her  eye — "  If  you  do,  ask  a  policeman  ;  he  will- 
set  you  right."  Down  the  street  we  went  past  the  mag- 
nificent Hotel  Metropole — opened  two  days  later,  and  said 
by  good  judges  to  be  the  finest  in  the  world — and  turned 
into  the  embankment  gardens,  adjoining  the  residence  of 
the  Duke  of  Buccleuch.  What  a  boon,  and  beauty,  these 
open  spaces  are — walks,  trees,  green  turf,  flowers,  garden 
seats,  and  in  front  of  you  the  grand  old  river  with  its 
noble  embankments,  adorned  with  rows  of  trees,  statues, 
seats,  and  splendid  promenade.  Leaning  over  the  coping 
that  borders  the  stream,  we  could  hardly  realize  that  our 
dream  of  forty  years  was  fulfilled,  and  that  we  were  in- 
deed in  the  great  modern  Babylon,  the  center  of  the  civil- 
ized world. 

But  a  glance  up  and  down  the  "  great  highway  of  the 
nations  "  which  ends  at  London  bridge,  a  mile  and  a  half 
down  stream,  with  its  crowd  of  river  craft,  and  the  stately 
buildings  on  its  banks,  was  incontrovertible  evidence  that 
it  was  so.  It  was  a  lovely  May  evening,  and  so  we  strolled 
nearly  up  to  Westminster  bridge,  returning  to  rest  awhile 

85 


86  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

in  the  pretty  garden  ;  thence  up  Northumberland  avenue, 
on  the  upper  end  of  which  the  palace  of  the  Percies  once 
stood,  with  its  well-known  lion  over  the  entrance,  into 
Trafalgar  Square,  called  by  some  "the  noblest  site  in 
Europe."  It  is  certainly  a  splendid  square,  with  fine 
buildings  around  it,  among  which,  on  the  upper  side,  is  the 
National  Gallery ;  a  large  fountain  in  its  center;  many 
statues  adorning  it,  prominent  among  them  the  Nelson 
column,  with  Landseer's  four  great  lions  at  its  base. 
Turning  thence  into  the  Strand  with  its  two  crowded 
streams  of  traffic  setting  steadily  and  ceaselessly  east  and 
west,  and  being  kindly  piloted  across  them  both  by  a 
genial  blue-coated  giant,  a  few  minutes  brought  us  to  the 
quiet  haven  of  Craven  street,  feeling  perfectly  at  home, 
from  henceforward  having  no  fear  of  London  or  the  Lon- 
don streets,  and  thorough  confidence  in  Bobbie! 

I  do  not  purpose  inflicting  on  you  long  accounts  of  all 
we  saw,  did,  or  heard,  during  our  three  different  visits  to 
fair  London  town,  but  as  we  enjoyed  it  all  so  immensely — 
yes,  that's  the  word — will  try  to  give  you  some  idea  why 
we  did  so. 

Next  morning  was  a  glorious  day,  and  we  commenced  it, 
accompanied  by  one  of  the  kindest  and  most  charming  lit- 
tle cicerones,  with  a  visit  to  the  Houses  of  Parliament.  No 
admittance  !  I  began  to  waver  in  my  faith  in  Bobbie, 
who  refused  us  entrance,  until  I  found  that  both  the  Pal- 
ace of  Westminster  and  the  Tower  of  London  were  closed 
to  the  public  since  the  dynamite  outrages.  Turning  back, 
we  entered  the  noble  pile  of  Westminster  Abbey  just  be- 
fore the  conclusion  of  matins.  Without  writing  a  book 
I  could  give  you  but  faint  idea  of  this  grand  old  abbey 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.          87 

with  its  nine  chapels,  north  and  south  transept,  and  aisles, 
nave  and  choir,  absolutely  crowded  with  groups  of  statu- 
ary which  detract,  I  think,  in  some  cases  from  the  grandeur 
of  the  whole  by  their  numbers.  Its  early  history  is 
almost  lost  in  the  mists  of  ages,  but  tradition  says  that 
Sebert,  king  of  the  East  Saxons,  who  died  in  616,  was 
about  to  consecrate  the  then  abbey  built  by  him,  but 
that  St.  Peter,  accompanied  by  angels  and  surrounded  by 
glorious  light,  was  beforehand  with  him,  and  did  it  him- 
self in  the  night  previous  to  the  day  appointed  for  the 
ceremony. 

One  thing  is  certain,  Edward  the  Confessor  built  a 
magnificent  structure  for  that  age  on  this  site,  and  the 
munificence  and  piety  of  many  subsequent  monarchs  has 
left  England  the  proud  possessor  of  the  abbey  as  it  now 
stands.  Its  architectural  beauty,  within  and  without,  you 
well  know  from  the  numerous  pictures  of  it  you  have  seen, 
so  familiar  is  it  to  every  Briton  whether  they  have  been  m 
London  or  not.  But  no  pictorial  representation,  however 
vivid,  can  convey  to  your  mind  the  almost  awful  feeling  of 
reverence  you  must  experience  on  entering  its  august 
portals,  and  knowing  that  you  are  standing  amidst  so 
many  of  a  mighty  nation's  mighty  dead.  Kings,  queens, 
warriors,  statesmen,  poets,  all  that  is  great  "  in  arms,  and 
art,  and  song,"  lie  around  you.  What  other  nation  can 
show  such  a  Pantheon  ?  Do  not  think  me  rhapsodical, 
but  when  I  walked  silently  among  them,  with  the  rich 
light  of  the  painted  glass  streaming  down  upon  bust, 
tablet,  and  "  storied  urn,"  in  the  Poet's  corner,  my  heart 
came  into  my  throat,  almost  choking  me,  and  for  a  while 
I   was  oblivious  of  our   work-a-day  world.     Around  us, 


88  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

what  names  from  Chaucer,  Shakespeare,  Spencer,  "  Rare 
Ben  Jonson,"  Milton,  Addison,  and  the  long  list  of  shining 
lights  in  our  English  literature,  down  to  the  familiar 
names  of  Macaulay,  Thackeray,  Dickens  and  Longfellow, 
of  our  own  day!  All  that  was  mortal  of  many  of  these 
great  men  was  laid  here,  and  you  cannot  help  but  feel 
how  insignificant  you  are  in  such  company,  and  yet  how 
difficult  to  tear  yourself  away.  Time  and  time  again  I 
returned  to  this  corner,  in  the  south  transept,  and  never 
left  it  but  with  a  feeling  that  I  must  go  again. 

A  few  words  as  to  the  beautiful  chapel  of  Henry  VII., 
to  which  you  enter  by  marble  steps,  through  exquisitely 
wrought  gates  of  brass,  rich  in  design  and  ornamented 
with  roses,  thistles,  crowns,  the  three  lions  of  England 
and  the  initials  R.  H.  Its  gorgeous  ceiling  is  wrought  in 
stone  in  such  intricate  tracery  that  I  cannot  describe — 
looking  like  fairy  stalactites — you  are  familiar  with  from 
pictures;  also  the  beautifully  carved  stalls  with  Gothic  can- 
opies, and  the  banners  of  the  Knights  of  the  Bath  above, 
many  dropping  to  piece3  with  age,  on  either  side  of  the 
chapel.  But  I  wish  you  could  see  the  brass  chapelry  and 
tomb  of  Henry  VII.,  and  his  queen,  in  the  center,  with  their 
recumbent  figures  lying  side  by  side  upon  it.  The  gate  of 
this  beautiful  railing  is  kept  locked,  and  so  very  rich  is  it 
in  all  its  details  of  execution  that  common  opinion  believes 
it  to  be  of  gold.  Most  of  the  English  sovereigns  from 
Henry  VII.  to  George  III.  lie  here  ;  and  particularly 
beautiful  is  the  canopied  tomb  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  and 
the  superb  monument  to  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  erected  by 
her  son  James  I.,  who  also  is  buried  here.  Time  will  not 
permit  a  fuller  description,  nor  do  I  wish  to  weary  you. 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  89 

Now  we  will  go  to  the  chapel  of  St.  Edward  the  Con- 
fessor, containing  his  shrine,  "  once  the  glory  of  England, 
but  now  much  defaced,  and  robbed  of  its  beauty  by 
devotees  anxious  to  possess  some  stone  or  dust  from  his 
tomb."  It  is  grievous  to  see  how  vandals  have  carved 
their  pigmy  names,  or  initials,  on  so  many  of  the  tombs, 
or  monuments,  in  this  and  other  parts  of  the  building,  but 
they  are  too  well  looked  after  now  for  it  to  be  permitted 
any  more.  This  chapel  with  its  dim  religious  light,  and 
many  monuments  of  mighty  dead,  cannot  fail  to  impress 
deeply  the  beholder.  Beside  the  ashes  of  the  illustrious 
king  whose  shrine  it  is,  it  contains  the  tombs  and  remains 
of  Henry  III.,  Queen  Eleanor,  Henry  V. — Harry  of  Mon- 
mouth, his  recumbent  figure  being  headless,  supposed  to 
be  stolen,  as  it  was  said  to  be  of  silver — Edward  III., 
Queen  Phillipa,  Margaret  Woodville,  Richard  II.,  and  his 
queen  ;  also  the  superb  tomb  and  coronation  chair  of  the 
first  Edward.  This  chair,  which  has  since  been  used  at  the 
coronation  of  all  English  sovereigns,  has  under  its  seat  a 
stone  brought  by  that  king  from  Scone,  in  Scotland,  on 
which  their  ancient  monarchs  used  to  be  crowned,  and 
said  to  have  been  Jacob's  pillow  during  his  angelic  vision. 
Many  other  interesting  objects  I  have  not  space  to  describe. 

The  seven  remaining  chapels,  beautiful  and  full  of  in- 
terest, as  some  of  them  certainly  are,  you  must  go  and  see 
yourself,  as  I  fear  I  have  lingered  too  long  already.  But 
when  you  do  go,  do  as  we  did,  dispense  with  a  guide,  but 
get  a  guide-book,  and  then  you  will  not  be  hurried  from 
one  object  of  interest  to  another,  and  can  linger  longest 
where  you  feel  the  greatest  attraction.  How  beautiful  it 
all  is !    How  gorgeous  the  many  painted  windows  !     How 


90  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

sonorous,  and  yet  how  soft  and  sweet,  the  tones  of  its  four 
organs — one  at  each  angle  of  the  transept — all  played  by 
one  performer  at  the  same  time,  and  the  voices  of  the 
choristers  rolling  up  and  dying  away  amid  the  long-drawn 
aisles,  arches  and  tracery  of  the  roof,  I  must  leave  to  your 
imagination  ;  we  thought  it  sublime.  And  yet,  after  wor- 
shipping here  on  different  occasions,  on  one  of  which  we 
heard  the  Rev.  Edwin  Price,  Minor  Canon,  preach  an  ex- 
cellent sermon,  I  cannot  but  confess  to  a  feeling  that  the 
services  were  not  as  inspiriting,  warm  or  ornate,  as  the 
august  fane  seemed  to  demand. 

The  next  church  visited  by  us  was  the  ancient  one  of 
the  Knights  Templars,  in  Fleet  street,  now  belonging  to 
the  Benchers  of  the  Middle  and  Inner  Temples.  It  has 
recently  been  restored  and  the  monumental  effigies  of  its 
former  owners,  of  which  there  are  many  recumbent  in  the 
nave,  renovated  and  repaired.  It  is  considered  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  relics  of  Norman  architecture  in  the  king- 
dom ;  and  also  celebrated  for  the  excellence  of  the  singing, 
and  general  beauty  of  the  services.  It  is  often  difficult 
to  obtain  seats,  unless  you  have  an  order  from  a  Bencher, 
but  our  kind  friend  explaining  to  a  solemn  verger  in  long 
black  gown  that  we  were  from  the  far  Sandwich  Islands, 
we  were  shown  to  excellent  seats  in  the  chancel — M.  on 
one  side,  I  on  the  other,  as  the  sexes  are  divided.  It 
was  Trinity  Sunday,  and  the  church  was  full,  the  services 
choral — with  antiphonal  singing  by  a  surpliced  choir,  all 
male  voices — beautiful  throughout  and  the  anthem  truly 
sublime.  How  we  did  enjoy  it,  never  having  heard  any- 
thing so  perfect  in  prayer  and  praise  before.  Service  ended, 
we    descended    through    the    historic    Temple    gardens, 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  91 

famous  for  their  chrysanthemums,  and  celebrated  by- 
Shakespeare  as  the  scene  of  the  plucking  of  the  red  and 
white  roses — badges  of  York  and  Lancaster — on  to  the 
Thames  embankment ;  past  Somerset  House,  formerly  the 
palace  of  the  Protector  of  that  name;  Cleopatra's  needle; 
and  the  river  glancing  in  the  sunshine,  with  its  host  of 
holiday-makers,  most  of  whom,  poor  souls,  can  get  out 
no  other  time,  back  to  our  quiet  street.  The  afternoon  we 
devoted  to  two  lady  friends  of  ours  in  Chelsea,  both  of 
whom  were  past  the  utmost  limit  of  life  allotted  by  the 
psalmist,  and  had  known  us  as  boy  and  girl.  How  cheer- 
ful and  bright  they  were,  and  how  delighted  they  and 
their  children  were  to  see  us,  and  we  them.  We  had  there 
and  subsequently  many  happy  reminiscences  of  early  days, 
and  many,  alas  !  all  too  tender  and  sad,  of  dear  departed 
ones.  To  them  we  were  in  kindly  imagination  boy  and 
girl  still,  and  our  Christian  names  familier  in  their  mouths 
as  household  words. 

A  subsequent  Sunday  took  us  to  St.  Paul's  Cathedral — 
Sir  Christopher  Wren's  magnificent  creation — to  matins, 
where  the  services  were  beautifully  rendered,  with  es- 
pecially excellent  chanting  and  singing,  the  Rev.  Harry 
Jones  preaching  a  powerful  and  stirring  sermon.  This 
superb  structure,  whose  noble  dome  is  visible  all  over 
London,  and  so  well  known  that  it  is  the  first  object  that 
strikes  a  stranger's  attention,  is  situated  in  the  heart  of 
the  city — I  had  almost  said  in  the  center  of  the  civilized 
world,  for  within  a  few  minutes'  walk  is  Lothbury,  where 
is  the  Royal  Exchange,  as  well  as  the  residence  of  the  old 
lady  of  Threadneedle  street,  the  slightest  rise  or  fall  in 
whose  pulse  causes  a  tremor  in  that  of  thousands  all  over 


92  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

the  globe.  It  stands  on  the  top  of  Ludgate  Hill,  on  the 
site  of  an  ancient  Temple  of  Diana.  Since  then  several 
Christian  churches  have  occupied  the  spot,  but  this,  the 
grandest  of  them  all,  was  begun  in  1675,  and  finished,  but 
not  completely,  in  1710.  The  architect's  grand  designs 
have  not  even  yet  been  fully  carried  out,  and  the  beautify- 
ing and  painting  of  the  interior  of  the  magnificent  dome 
is  still  being  proceeded  with.  It  is  a  gorgeous  fane, 
splendid  and  vast  in  its  proportions,  being  nearly  half  a 
mile  in  circumference,  and  the  elevation  of  the  cross  on 
its  top  404  feet  from  the  foundation.  When  you  enter 
you  are  struck  by  the  lofty  vaulting  and  noble  concave 
soaring  above  you  to  such  a  vast  height.  Like  West- 
minster Abbey,  it  is  full  of  monuments  to  the  mighty 
dead,  among  them  John  Howard,  Dr.  Johnson,  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds,  Sir  John  Moore,  Abercrombie,  Nelson,  Welling- 
ton, and  a  host  of  others.  In  the  crypt  lie  the  bodies  of 
the  last  named  two,  with  other  eminent  men.  The  tomb 
of  Wren,  its  builder,  has  the  following  inscription  in 
Latin  :  "  Beneath  lies  Christopher  Wren,  the  architect  of 
this  church  and  city,  who  lived  more  than  ninety  years, 
not  for  himself  alone,  but  for  the  public.  Reader,  do  you 
seek  his  monument?  Look  around!"  We  did  not  ascend 
into  the  dome,  nor  did  we  go  down  into  the  crypt ;  time 
was  all  too  short  for  the  latter,  and  M.  does  not  like  dizzy 
heights,  nor  had  I  forgotten  our  experience  at  the  whirl- 
pool rapids. 

In  the  evening  our  usual  custom  was  to  attend  vespers 
at  the  chapel  of  St.  Mary-le-Savoy,  in  the  Strand.  It  is 
what  is  called  a  Chapel  Royal,  but  why  I  do  not  know ; 
there  are  several  in  London.     All  the  prayer  books  and 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  93 

hymnals  in  this  one  are  marked  as  the  property  of  the 
Queen.  The  Savoy,  of  which  this  was  the  chapel,  was 
formerly  the  palace  of  the  Dukes  of  Lancaster,  and  this 
building  has  recently  been  restored  by  the  Queen.  It  is 
small  and  the  sittings  allotted  to  parishioners,  but  our 
kind  friends  took  us  with  them  and  we  always  heard 
good  sermons,  had  a  calm,  pleasant,  soothing  service — 
such  a  contrast  to  the  roar  and  bustle  of  the  Strand  we 
had  but  just  left — in  the  quiet  chapel  with  the  evening  sun 
streaming  in  rich  light  through  its  beautiful  windows, 
one  of  ^vhich  was  a  thank-offering  for  the  recovery  of  the 
Prince  of  Wales. 

Hospital  Sunday  we  attended  Mr.  Spurgeon's  Taber- 
nacle. On  entering  at  the  outer  gate  you  are  given  an  en- 
velope. I  do  not  know  if  this  custom  always  obtains,  or 
only  on  this  particular  Sunday  ;  in  this  you  enclose  your 
offering  and  drop  it  into  a  box  on  the  wall.  Entering  the 
vast  edifice,  capable  of  seating  many  thousands  of  people, 
you  are  directed,  if  a  stranger, to  sit  on  a  flap-seat  attached 
to  the  end  of  the  regular  pews  in  the  aisle  until  the  own- 
ers or  usual  occupants  are  all  seated,  and  then  shown  to 
your  place.  We  were  spared  this  by  the  kindness  of  a 
lady  taking  us  into  her  sitting,  near  the  pulpit,  for  which 
I  felt  very  grateful.  Immense  as  the  building  is,  it  was 
soon  full  and  prompt  to  time  the  Rev.  Mr.  Spurgeon  ap- 
peared. I  should  have  known  him  at  once  by  the  many 
photographs  I  have  seen  of  him,  but  I  thought  he  looked 
tired  and  careworn.  This  soon  passed  off,  however,  when 
the  reverend  gentleman  began  the  services  of  the  day. 
He  is  a  truly  wonderful,  as  well  as  a  good  man,  and  the 
marvellous  flow  of  his  oratory  in  pure  nervous   Anglo- 


94  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

Saxon  English,  whether  in  the  soft  pathos  of  prayer,  or 
the  grand  exuberance  of  praise  and  thanksgiving,  seemed 
to  me  an  almost  godlike  gift.  The  congregational  singing 
by  so  many  voices,  aided  by  a  noble  organ,  was  very  fine, 
the  hymns  and  their  tunes  being  given  out  by  the  pastor. 
I  did  see  in  the  newspapers  next  day  the  amount  of  offer- 
tory collected  on  this  occasion,  but  have  forgotten  ;  I  know 
it  was  large.  We  should  have  liked  much  to  have  gone 
to  the  Foundling,  but  somehow  or  other  could  never 
manage  it.  Time  seems  to  pass  away  so  rapidly  and  there 
is  so  much  to  see  and  hear.  Would  you  believe  it,  we 
never  saw  the  British  Museum  ! 

On  the  "  glorious  first  of  June,"  and  a  glorious  day  it 
was  too,  we  strolled  into  St.  James'  Park,  and  on  the 
parade  ground  in  rear  of  the  Horse-Guards,  witnessed  the 
"trooping  of  the  columns,"  by  a  large  body  of  Royal  Horse 
Guards  and  about  eight  hundred  infantry.  A  very  im- 
posing sight  it  was,  and  how  perfect  the  evolutions  of  these 
splendid  troops.  At  the  west  end  of  this  charming  park, 
and  lying,  as  it  were,  between  it  and  the  Green  Park,  is 
Buckingham  Palace.  On  your  right  hand  the  stately 
Mall,  with  Marlborough  House,  residence  of  the  Prince  of 
Wales.  Passing  along  the  Mall  in  front  of  the  palace,  and 
skirting  Green  Park  up  Constitution  hill — on  which  the 
pot-boy  Oxford  fired  at  the  queen,  and  Sir  Robert  Peel 
was  thrown  from  his  horse  and  killed — we  crossed  Picca- 
dilly to  Hyde  Park  Corner,  and  passed  through  the  prin- 
cipal entrance,  where  are  five  avenues,  supported  by 
Ionic  pillars,  to  see  the  meet  of  the  Four-in-hand  club. 
How  beautiful  this  line  of  parks  is  with  their  grand  old 
trees,  noble  houses,  ornamental  water,  and  verdant  grass  ; 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD,  95 

and  so  entering  at  the  "  Corner,"  with  Apsley  house,  late 
residence  of  the  Iron  Duke,  to  your  right  and  the  great 
statue  of  Achilles — erected  by  the  women  of  England 
from  cannon  captured  in  the  Peninsular  war — almost  in 
front,  we  came  upon  a  scene  perhaps  unequalled  in  the 
world;  at  all  events,  Londoners  think  so — another  spa- 
cious part  stretching  away  westward  past  Knightsbridge 
to  Kensington  Palace  and  gardens,  with  avenues,  rides, 
and  drives  all  planted  with  stately  trees.  Numerous  stat- 
ues are  scattered  about,  and  a  short  distance  off  the 
rather  too  ornate  Albert  Memorial,  which  you  know  from 
pictures ;  the  Serpentine,  with  its  aquatic  fowl ;  great 
masses  of  rhododendrons  and  other  flowering  shrubs,  all 
at  this  season  looking  so  glorious  with  their  resplendent 
colours  set  in  the  emerald  of  the  grass.  But  the  pride  of 
the  Londoner  is  the  Drive  and  Rotten  Row,  and  hence 
our  visit  to-day.  We  got  chairs,  of  which  there  are  any 
amount  for  hire  at  a  penny  an  hour,  and  took  our  seats 
under  the  trees  bordering  the  drive,  already  lined  by  a 
double  row  of  carriages  on  each  side,  filled  with  the  rank, 
beauty  and  fashion  of  this  vast  metropolis,  and  like  our- 
selves waiting  for  the  coming  of  the  coaches.  By  and  by 
a  low,  respectful  hum  among  the  thousands  on  foot, 
horseback  and  in  carriages,  a  sudden  lifting  of  the  gentle- 
men's hats,  and  the  charming  and  much  loved  Princess , 
of  Wales,  with  three  of  her  daughters  passes  by,  quietly 
followed  by  the  Duchess  of  Teck,  whom  everybody  likes  ; 
the  grand  Duke  of  Mecklenburg-Strelitz,  and  many  of  the 
nobility  and  aristocracy  whose  names  are  famous  in  our 
country's  story.  Soon  came  the  coaches  themselves,  on 
the  box  seat  of  one  of  them  the  pleasant-smiling  Prince  of 


96  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

Wales,  looking  a  thorough  Englishman,  and  bowing  right 
and  left  to  his  friends  with  that  peculiar  grace  that  has 
made  him  so  popular  with  the  English  people.  We  had 
been  here  on  Saturday  and  seen  the  Coaching  Club  turn 
out  with  twenty -two  coaches  ;  to-day  there  were  only 
eighteen  of  them,  but  what  splendid  turn-outs  they  are  ; 
built  like  the  old  mail-coaches,  most  elaborately  finished, 
guards'  seat,  horn  and  all  the  other  necessary  parapher- 
nalia of  a  stage-coach  and  horsed  with  four  magnificent 
cattle.  Some  affect  bays,  some  blacks,  chestnuts,  or  greys, 
and  others  have  wheelers  and  leaders  of  different  colours. 
All  their  occupants,  and  they  were  well  covered — for  there 
is  no  one  inside — both  male  and  female  sit  on  top,  and  a 
gallant  show  they  make  driving  in  procession  from  the 
upper  part  of  the  park  down  to  the  "  Corner,"  and  thence 
in  the  direction  of  Kensington.  Crossing,  a  short  distance 
takes  you  to  the  Row  and  Lady's-Mile  ;  here  another  vast 
assemblage  of  rank,  beauty  and  fashion,  on  foot  and  on 
horse-back.  Lounging  on  the  rails,  chatting,  or  perhaps 
flirting  with  the  fair  horse-women,  are  many  of  the  "  gilded 
youth,"  others  riding  up  and  down  at  solemn  pace ; 
nearly  all  well  mounted,  but  the  ladies'  riding-skirts  too 
short  to  suit  my  old-fashioned  ideas  of  elegance,  and  not 
many  of  them  sitting  their  horses  with  the  ease  and  grace 
peculiar  to  our  island  girls.  But  I  was  much  struck  with 
a  fine  aristocratic  looking  girl,  with  a  natty  groom  "in 
tops  and  cords "  behind  her,  mounted  on  a  splendid 
trotting  grey,  and  riding  him  at  this  difficult  pace  for  a 
lady,  with  an  ease  few,  if  any  of  our  "  Kaikainahines  " 
could  attain.  All  the  ladies  have  escorts,  either  a  jolly 
looking  father,  a  brother,  or  a  groom.     What  a  gay  and 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  97 

splendid  crowd  it  is,  and  how  perfectly  managed  by  the 
attendant  police.  When  you  return  to  the  u  Corner  "  to 
go  out,  where  the  five  avenues  for  the  carriages,  horse- 
men, and  pedestrians  all  converge,  you  notice  standing  in 
the  central  space  a  policeman  quietly  controlling  the 
assembled  thousands  who  are  moving  to  and  fro,  or 
desirous  of  going  out.  When  a  block  occurs,  or  a  number 
of  folks  on  foot  are  desirous  of  passing,  Bobbie  simply 
holds  up  his  hand,  not  a  word  is  spoken,  and  all  the  car- 
riages passing  and  re-passing  at  right  angles  to  the  gate- 
way stop  instantly,  and  remain  stationary  as  long  as  his 
hand  is  held  up.  When  the  pedestrians  are  well  over,  a 
wave  of  his  hand  right  and  left,  equestrians  and  carriages 
resume  their  respective  courses,  and  all  goes  smoothly 
till  the  park  is  cleared  of  its  vast  concourse. 

On  a  lovely  sunny  Sunday  afternoon,  which  is  by  far 
the  best  day  to  go,  not  being  crowded  and  entrance  only 
obtainable  by  members'  tickets,  we  went  to  the  Zoological 
Gardens  in  the  Regents'  Park.  This  large  and  beautiful 
park  is  on  the  northwest  side  of  the  metropolis,  sur- 
rounded with  terraces  of  mansions,  villas  and  private 
houses,  laid  out  in  shrubberies  and  artificial  lakes,  being 
plentifully  intersected  with  roads  and  promenades.  It 
contains  also  the  Botanic  and  Zoological  Gardens.  It 
was  full  of  people  promenading,  sitting  under  the  um- 
brageous trees,  or  listening  to  temperance  lecturers  or 
field-preachers,  several  of  whom  we  saw  with  fair  audi- 
ences. Our  time  was  all  too  short  to  see  much  of  the 
park,  and  the  Botanic  Gardens  we  did  not  see  at  all.  The 
u  Zoo  "  was  all  we  had  been  prepared  to  see — a  most  com- 
plete  collection   of  almost   every    beast,   bird,  or  reptile 


98  OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

known  to  man — in  paddock,  dens,  or  aviaries,  suited  to 
their  respective  habits  or  wants.  The  reptile  house  had 
a  particular  fascination  for  me,  and  the  collection  was 
very  full  and  complete.  M.  soon  quitted  it,  feeling,  I 
fancy,  like  Arthur  Sketchley's  Mrs.  Brown,  who  "  couldn't 
abear  them  nasty,  creeping  things."  The  bird  and  mon- 
key-houses, too,  are  large  and  handsome,  with  numerous 
occupants,  but  we  did  not  affect  them  much  either,  the  din 
and  screaming  being  too  great  to  be  pleasant.  We  amused 
ourselves  chiefly  by  walking  about  the  beautifully  laid- 
out  grounds,  or  seeing  the  larger  mammalia  and  carnivora, 
and  when  fatigued,  sitting  on  some  bench  and  watching  the 
gay  crowd  of  visitors  passing  to  and  fro.  "  Jumbo,"  alas  ! 
had  gone,  much,  no  doubt,  to  the  sorrow  of  many  a  juvenile 
Londoner,  but  had  left  some  splendid  specimens  of  his 
race  behind  him.  The  collection  consists  of  about  two 
thousand  animals,  and  you  may  imagine  would  take  no 
small  time  to  do  justice  to.  Practically  there  is  no  limit 
to  the  numerous  opportunities  afforded  visitors  to  the 
great  metropolis  for  amusement,  information,  or  pleasure. 
A  years'  residence,  even  if  one  or  more  of  the  many 
places  available  to  the  public  were  visited  every  day, 
would  not  suffice  for  seeing  half  of  them  ;  therefore,  my 
notices  must  necessarily  be  few  and  brief.  Of  course,  we 
saw  Madame  Tussaud's  unrivalled  wax-work  exhibition, 
wonderfully  improved  of  late,  and  in  splendid  quarters. 
Every  country  cousin  going  to  town  sees  it,  and  admires 
the  long  line  of  English  sovereigns,  from  the  earliest  times 
down  to  Queen  Victoria,  with  many  eminent  men  and 
women  of  all  countries  and  climes,  even  to  Arabi  Pasha. 
We  were  much  amused  with  Maskeleyne  and  Cook's  per- 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.  99 

formances,  and  especially  those  of  the  automaton  "  Zoe," 
who  draws  excellent  likenesses  of  prominent  people  in  a 
very,  to  me,  inexplicable  manner. 

We  visited  several  of  the  numerous  theatres,  but  I  will 
only  mention  two  or  three — Drury  Lftne,  with  its  vast 
stage  and  real  water,  where  we  saw  Charles  Reade's 
*'  Never  Too  Late  to  Mend  "  excellently  acted,  two  scenes 
in  which  pleased  us  much — one  of  a  farm-yard  with  living 
ducks  swimming  about  in  a  pond,  and  pigeons  flying 
around  a  dove-cot  ;  the  other,  a  river  at  sunrise,  with  a 
stream  of  actual  water  falling  in  a  cataract  over  a  ledge 
of  rocks.  At  the  pretty  little  Savoy  we  saw  "  The  Mikado  " 
on  two  occasions,  and  were  vastly  pleased  ;  it  was  so  well 
put  upon  the  stage,  the  singing,  acting,  dresses,  and  scen- 
ery charming  to  see  and  hear. 

We  went,  too,  to  the  Lyceum,  to  see  Henry  Irving  and 
Ellen  Terry  in  the  very  affecting  play  of  "  Olivia,"  founded 
on  Goldsmith's  Vicar  of  Wakefield,  and  were  much 
charmed  with  their  finished  and  perfect  acting.  At  the 
two  last-named  theatres  the  plays  had  been  running  I  am 
afraid  to  say  how  long,  and  yet  it  was  necessary  to  get 
your  tickets  a  week  or  ten  days  beforehand,  so  crowded 
were  they  every  night.  One  evening  at  the  Princess  we  saw 
two  of  the  professional  beauties  whose  names  have  been 
so  familiar  lately  :  Mrs.  Langtry,  in  the  play  of  "  Peril," 
an  adaptation  from  the  French,  which  we  did  not  like;  and 
in  one  of  the  boxes — as  a  spectator — Miss  Fortescue,  whose 
action  against  Lord  Garmoyle  made  such  a  stir  at  the 
time.  The  former  is  a  beautifully  formed  woman,  but 
not  so  handsome  as  I  had  expected  to  see,  and  as  an 
actress  by  no  means  first  rate — the  latter,  with  her  class- 


100        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

ical  face,  far  the  more  charming  of  the  two,  her  profile 
being  lovely.  Mary  Anderson,  who  is  such  a  prime 
favourite  with  the  English  people,  we  did  not  see,  she 
being  in  the  provinces  during  our  stay  in  town. 

The  Crystal  Rfclace  at  Sydenham  was  part  of  our  pro- 
gramme, and  twice  visited.  With  its  many  courts,  theatre, 
great  organ,  endless  variety  of  objects  of  interest,  including 
statues  and  pictures,  the  beautifully '  laid-out  gardens, 
temples  and  fountains,  it  is  certainly  a  delightful  place 
to  spend  a  few  hours,  or  even  days,  for  you  cannot  see  it 
all  in  one,  the  surrounding  country  adding  so  much  to 
the  charm.  Of  the  truly  magnificent  South  Kensington 
Museum  I  have  but  little  to  say,  as  we  were  only  able  to 
afford  time  for  one  hasty  visit,  and  certainly  a  week  would 
be  all  too  short  to  do  it  justice.  It  is  a  regular  embarrass- 
ment of  riches  of  everything  rare,  curious  and  beautiful, 
and  our  brief  time  was  principally  taken  up  with  the 
Sheepshank  collection,  and  the  Cartoons  of  Raphael.  I 
am  almost  ashamed  to  dismiss  the  two  latter  places  so 
quietly,  but  I  have  so  many  more  I  wish  you  to  accom- 
pany me  to  that  I  cannot  linger  on  as  I  fain  would. 

Now  come  with  me  to  the  "  Inventions,"  and  walking 
through  its  many  vast  and  lofty  aisles,  or  courts,  make 
the  best  use  time  will  allow  of  your  eyes  in  seeing  the 
accumulated  wonders  and  inventions  from  all  the  nations 
of  the  world.  Each  quarter  of  the  globe,  and  the  differ- 
ent peoples  inhabiting  them,  are  well  represented  in  the 
courts  called  by  their  respective  names.  All  sorts  of  arts, 
manufactures,  and  indeed  almost  every  necessary  of  life  is 
exhibited,  and  can  be  purchased  if  required.  The  daz- 
zling and  wonderfully  rich  products  of  Eastern  looms,  carv- 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        101 

ing,  cunning  work  in  gold  and  silver,  and  handicrafts  of 
every  kind  ;  superb  furniture,  china  and  glassware  from 
continental  Europe ;  magnificent  pianos,  useful  machin- 
ery of  all  sorts  and  kinds  from  "  Our  American  Cousins," 
with  a  literally  endless  variety  of  articles  useful,  as  well 
as  beautiful — of  which,  of  course,  John  Bull  contributes 
his  quota  —  from  everywhere,  make  a  whole  of  which 
you  never  seem  to  have  seen  enough.  All  the  stupendous 
machinery  exhibited  is  in  motion ;  their  beautifully 
polished  shafts  gleaming  in  the  sunlight  streaming 
through  the  crystal  roof,  decorated  with  myriads  of  flags, 
has  a  charming  effect.  The  whole  extent  of  various 
buildings  and  gardens  is  very  vast,  and  during  our  fre- 
quent visits  the  latter  were  gorgeous  in  flowers  ;  we  were 
ever  losing  our  way  in  the  labyrinth  of  courts,  alleys  or 
paths,  but  had  not  long  to  wait  for  an  official  to  set  us 
right.  The  place  was  always  crowded,  as  many  thou- 
sands come  up  from  the  country  by  cheap  excursion- 
trains  daily,  during  the  summer,  especially  when  the 
gardens  and  fountains  are  illuminated  by  the  electric 
light  in  the  evening.  At  the  risk  of  being  wearisome  I 
must  tell  you  something  of  this,  for  I  never  saw  anything 
so  beautiful.  Well,  picture  to  yourself  a  large  open  place 
in  the  spacious  gardens  ;  in  the  center,  issuing  from  piles 
of  rock-work  in  an  immense  basin,  are  very  powerful 
fountains,  throwing,  I  do  not  know  how  many  jets  of  water 
high  into  the  air ;  around  the  whole,  elegantly  designed 
buildings  used  for  conservatories,  tea-rooms,  band-rooms, 
and  other  purposes  of  the  exhibition.  Noble  trees  and 
shrubs  artistically  grouped,  strolling  under  which,  or  sit- 
ting on  the  numerous  seats  and  benches,  listening  to  the 


102        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

sweet  strains  of  Strauss',  or  some  other  celebrated  band, 
are  literally  thousands  of  people  watching  the  hands  of 
the  clock  on  an  illuminated  dial  in  a  tower  of  the  main 
building  as  they  draw  near  9.  As  the  first  stroke  of 
the  hour  falls  on  the  ear  what  a  wondrous  change  !  In- 
stantaneously the  clear  darkness  of  the  summer  night  is 
illumined  with  a  wondrous  blaze  of  light ;  every  cornice, 
moulding  or  projection  of  the  buildings  are  ablaze  with 
coloured  lamps  ;  each  tree  or  shrub  has  its  thousands,  or 
hundreds  of  them,  according  to  their  capacity  ;  the  foun- 
tains throw  their  magnificent  jets  high  into  the  air,  some- 
times of  one  colour,  at  others  mixed,  green,  red,  blue,  pur- 
ple or  white,  and  underneath  the  waters  of  the  lakes  are 
shining  glass  globes  of  lambent  fire  of  all  imaginable  col- 
ours. This  flashes  on  the  astonished  senses  at  once,  and 
makes  a  scene  so  beautiful  and  fairyland-like  that  no  de- 
scription of  mine  can  convey  to  jour  mind  its  beauties. 
You  are  simply  entranced  by  it.  No  exhibition  of  fire- 
works I  have  ever  seen — and  we  saw  some  very  beautiful 
the  other  night  at  the  Crystal  Palace — can  at  all  compare 
with  it ;  its  beauty  is  unique  ! 

With  an  account  of  the  extensive  and  well-stocked 
aquarium  I  will  not  trouble  you,  but  I  must  ask  you  to 
come  with  me  for  a  stroll  through  the  streets  of  "Old 
London,"  a  wonderful  reproduction,  in  another  part  of 
the  exhibition.  Entering  through  a  gateway  with  a  bat- 
tlemented  tower  on  either  hand,  portcullis  and  all  com- 
plete, you  find  yourself  in  a  narrow,  crooked  paved  street, 
with  ancient  houses,  their  second  stories  overhanging  the 
crowded  way  ;  open  shops  beneath  them,  in  which 
artisans  or  handicraftsmen  are  seen  pursuing  their  vari- 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         103 

cms  callings  in  the  habiliments  and  garb  of  centuries  long 
past,  armourers,  workers  in  brass,  wood-carvers,  weav- 
ers, and  many  other  trades.  There  are  plenty  of  shops, 
too — all  open  to  the  street — in  which  a  variety  of  pretty 
and  fancy  articles  are  sold,  attended  to  by  young  women 
also  in  ancient  costume  of  fardingale,  ruff,  slashed  sleeve, 
peaked  bodice  and  strange  headgear.  In  the  upper 
stories  of  the  houses  are  exposed  for  sale  articles  of  greater 
value,  such  as  rarely  carved  furniture  and  costly  brass- 
work,  than  in  the  street  below.  An  old  church  with  a 
beautiful  chime  of  bells  ;  the  curious  signs  with  their 
quaint  old  English  inscriptions  ;  the  men  standing  in  the 
doors  of  the  shops  and  crying,  What  d'ye  lack?  What 
d'ye  lack?  dressed  in  their  old-time  garb  and  cap, 
makes  a  charming  whole  which  is  very  realistic,  and  I 
know  would  please  you.  One  house  you  enter  is  called 
Whittington's  parlour,  and  with  its  low  ceilings,  painted 
walls,  and  beautiful  antique  furniture,  said  to  be  an  exact 
fac-simile  of  the  renowned  Richard's,  thrice  Lord  Mayor  of 
London,  was  of  great  interest  to  us.  We  were  never  tired 
of  visiting  this  interesting  exhibition,  there  being  always 
something  new  to  see,  and  refreshments  of  every  kind 
obtainable,  from  a  modest  cup  of  tea  with  bread  and  but- 
ter, costing  two-pence,  to  a  gourmand's  lunch  costing  per- 
haps half  a  guinea. 

Of  the  galleries  of  art  and  pictures  I  will  only  mention 
three,  beginning  with  the  National  Gallery  in  Trafalgar 
Square.  This  fine  building  has  a  staircase  on  either  side 
of  the  main  entrance  leading  into  the  vast  suites  of 
rooms,  filled  with,  I  should  say  thousands  of  pictures — on 
the  one  hand  devoted  to  foreign  and  ancient  masters,  on 


104        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

the  other  to  British  and  more  modern  painters.  Of  the 
former  I  do  not  feel  that  I  am  competent  to  say  anything, 
nor,  indeed,  of  the  latter,  for  I  do  not  set  up  for  a  judge, 
and  only  profess  to  know  what  pleases  me  most.  Many 
of  them  are  very  beautiful,  not  a  few  well  known  and 
historical  pictures,  wonderful  in  their  splendid  colouring. 
There  was  always  a  crowd  before  Raphael's  celebrated 
"Madonna,"  that  occupied  a  central  place  on  an  easel  in 
one  of  the  rooms,  and  had  just  been  purchased  by  the 
nation  for  £72,000  !  The  colouring  of  this,  and  face  of 
the  Virgin,  were  exquisite,  but  the  anachronism  in  dress  of 
the  attendant  figures  absurd.  I  must  confess  to  some 
weariness  of  the  crowds  of  medieval  saints,  martyrs,  madon- 
nas, and  angels,  beautiful  though  they  be,  and  great  the 
names  of  the  painters.  On  the  other  or  modern  side  you 
are  struck  on  entering  by  the  splendid  collection  of 
Turner's  landscape  and  sea-pieces  ;  and  yet  at  a  first 
glance  some  of  them  seem  almost  as  if  painted  with  a 
broom,  but  their  beauty  comes  out  and  grows  on  you 
as  you  look.  Some  of  the  Italian  landscapes  in  partic- 
ular are  beyond  my  power  to  describe,  and  sea-pieces 
wondrous  ;  among  the  latter  I  liked  "  Towing  the  Fight- 
ing Temeraire  "  much.  Landscapes  of  Gainsborough ; 
"  The  Rake's  Progress,"  of  Hogarth  ;  "  Samuel,"  of  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds  ;  "  Peace  and  War,"  of  Landseer — and 
I  must  specially  mention  his  exquisite  "  Shoeing  the  Bay 
Mare ;"  Rosa  Bonheur's  "  Horse-fair,"  with  hundreds  of 
other  well  known  and  often  engraved  pictures,  cover  the 
walls,  from  the  brushes  of  these  and  other  eminent  paint- 
ers. Indeed,  as  you  wander  along,  or  sit  on  the  comfort- 
able lounges  prepared  for  visitors,  you  feel  that  you  are 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        105 

among  a  host  of  old  friends,  and  loath  to  leave.  Being 
close  to  our  lodgings  and  no  entrance  fee  demanded,  we 
often  dropped  in  when  we  had  a  spare  half  hour. 

In  the  rooms  containing  the  splendid  collection  left 
by  the  late  Sir  Robert  Peel  to  the  nation,  among  other 
gems  is  the  celebrated  u  Chapeau  du  paitte"  of  Rubens. 
In  another  room  the  equestrian  picture  of  Charles  I.  by 
Van  Dyck,  lately  bought  for  £45,000  !  Goodly  sums  those 
I  have  mentioned,  but  I  suppose  well  laid  out.  At  the 
Royal  Academy  Exhibition,  Burlington  House,  with  its 
eleven  galleries  of  oil  paintings  and  water  colours,  and  other 
rooms,  containing  between  1,700,  and  1,800  subjects — ex- 
clusive of  sculpture — of  which,  by  the  by,  though  much 
of  it  is  very  fine,  I  have  said  nothing  in  the  National  Gal- 
lery— I  would  fain  linger  long ;  but  as  it  cannot  be,  yet 
I  feel  I  must  mention  some  of  the  pictures  that  struck 
me  most.  Ariadne  deserted  by  Theseus — reclining  on  a 
rock — by  Henrietta  Rae.  John  Knox  at  Holyrood,  reprov- 
ing Mary  Queen  of  Scots  and  court,  W.  P.  Frith.  "  The 
Queen,  God  bless  her!"  J.  E.  Hodgson — a  mid-day  halt 
in  the  desert,  officer  bare-headed  pledging  the  Queen. 
Standard  bearer,  Sir  John  Gilbert.  A  reading  from 
Homer,  Alma  Tadema.  Diadumene,  an  exquisite  nude, 
E.  J.  Poynter.  St.  Eulalia — her  body  lying  exposed  in 
the  forum  after  martyrdom,  being  covered  by  a  miracu- 
lous fall  of  snow — J.  W.  Waterhouse.  After  the  Arena, 
a  young  Christian's  body,  who  has  been  killed,  being 
lowered  into  the  catacombs  to  his  relations — E.  Armitage. 
And  a  host  of  beauties  by  great  modern  artists,  but  as  I 
am  not  writing  a  catalogue  I  must  refrain.  Let  me, 
however,    say    there    were   many    splendid   portraits   by 


106        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

Millais  and  other  eminent  men.  At  the  Grosvenor  Gal- 
lery, in  New  Bond  street,  amid  the  four  or  five  hundred 
examples  of  painting,  sculpture,  and  wood-carving  ex- 
hibited, much  of  which  was  beautiful,  my  attention  was 
mostly  taken  by  Alma  Tadema's  My  Doctor,  and  C.  W. 
Mitchell's  Hypatia,  from  Kingsley's  novel,  where,  pursued 
by  the  furious  mob,  she  rushes  up  the  nave  to  the  altar, 
"appealing  to  the  great  still  Christ — from  man  to  God." 
A  landscape  by  V.  C.  Prinsep.  The  first  warmth  of 
spring,  H.  Herkomer.  And  again  I  must  refrain,  leaving 
as  before  sculpture  rooms  untouched.  At  the  Dore  Gal- 
lery, among  the  many  beautiful  pictures  of  this  most 
gifted  and  prolific  artist,  I  most  admired  Christ  Leaving 
the  Praetorium  ;  Moses  before  Pharaoh — both  magnificent 
pictures,  with  life-size  figures  ;  "  Ecce  Homo  ;"  Dream 
of  Pilate's  Wife,  and  the  Day  Dream.  There  are  many 
other  beauties,  but  these  to  me  were  the  most  striking. 

I  have  told  you  that  we  had  been  unsuccessful  in  a 
former  attempt  to  see  the  Houses  of  Parliament,  but  now, 
through  the  kind  efforts  of  a  very  old  friend  in  the  For- 
eign office,  whom  we  had  known  in  Honolulu,  we  had  got 
orders,  not  only  for  the  Palace  of  Westminster,  but  for 
the  Tower  of  London  also.  So  taking  our  way  down 
Whitehall  and  Parliament  streets,  we  pass  the  Admiralty, 
where  I  had  a  few  days  previously  met  our  old  friend 
Admiral  Cator — shabbiest  of  public  offices  for  this  great 
naval  power;  the  Horse  Guards,  shabby  too,  but  some- 
what redeemed  by  the  magnificent  mounted  sentries  on 
either  side  the  entrance — horse  and  rider  still  as  a  stone 
statue,  and  justly  considered  one  of  the  sights  of  London. 
Opposite  is  the  Palace  of  Whitehall,  now  used  as  govern- 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        10T 

ment  offices,  through  a  window  of  which  the  unwise,  and 
unfortunate,  Charles  I.  went  to  his  death  on  a  bitter  win- 
ter's day.  Downward  still  toward  the  river,  and  we  soon 
reach  the  portals  of  the  magnificent  structure  that  is  our 
destination.  No  difficulty  as  to  entrance  now;  our 
friend's  talisman,  with  "Granville"  in  the  corner,  had 
made  all  easy.  This  grand  and  massive  pile,  occupying, 
an  area  of  some  eight  acres,  washed  on  one  side  by  the 
Thames,  stands  on  the  site  of  a  royal  palace  built  by 
Edward  the  Confessor,  and  has  been  several  times  more  or 
less  destroyed  by  fire,  altered  and  repaired.  After  the  last 
great  catastrophe  of  1834,  in  which  the  celebrated  tapestry 
depicting  the  destruction  of  the  Spanish  Armada,  that 
then  adorned  the  walls  of  the  House  of  Lords,  was  burnty 
it  was  determined  to  erect  a  new  palace  on  the  same  spot 
for  accommodation  of  the  Houses  of  Parliament,  the 
present  gorgeous  building  being  the  result.  I  do  not  pur- 
pose a  full  description  ;  I  think  you  know  it  all  pretty 
well  from  the  many  pictures  you  have  seen. 

I  find  my  note-book  says  we  were  astonished,  gratified, 
and  almost  awed,  with  the  grandeur  and  magnificence  of 
the  whole.  The  beautifully  intricate  brass  gates  ;  exquisite 
wood  carving ;  groups  of  statuary ;  brilliant  beauty  of 
the  storied  windows,  and  of  those  containing  portraits  of 
the  kings  and  queens  of  England,  from  William  the  Con- 
queror to  William  IV.;  splendid  frescoes  of  the  corridors, 
depicting  events  in  English  history  ;  numerous  bas  reliefs 
in  bronze,  or  richly  gilt ;  lofty  ceilings  crossed  by  carved 
beams,  sumptuously  painted  and  gilded,  and  general 
gorgeousness  of  the  vast  pile.  The  Gothic  splendour 
of  the  House  of  Lords  particularly  struck  us,  but  as  there 


108        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

was  some  peerage  case  under  discussion  by  a  lot  of  legal 
dignitaries  in  wig  and  gown,  we  were  not  able  to  see  it 
as  thoroughly  as  we  would  have  liked.  The  House  of 
Commons  is  very  fine,  too,  rich  in  carving  and  adorn- 
ment, but  lacking  in  a  measure  the  lavish  gold  and  col- 
ouring of  some  other  parts  of  the  pile.  Of  course,  we  had 
pointed  out  to  us  the  accustomed  seats  of  prominent  men 
in  either  house,  and  sat  in  the  premier's  and  speaker's 
chairs,  considered  the  thing  to  do.  We  could  not 
go  into  Westminster  Hall,  or  St.  Stephen's  Crypt,  both 
beautiful,  and  as  part  of  the  original  palace  very  interest- 
ing ;  they  being  under  repair  from  the  dynamite  explo- 
sions, were  not  open  to  the  public  ;  little  mark  of  damage 
was  now  visible  in  any  other  part.  We  met  several  par- 
ties of  American  ladies  and  gentlemen,  sight-seers  like 
ourselves,  and  were  glad  to  find  they  obtained  admittance 
as  well  as  we,  probably  through  their  minister.  Armed 
with  an  order  from  Lord  Chelmsford,  Constable  of  the 
Tower,  to  admit  Captain  L.  and  party,  let  us  now  pro- 
ceed thither,  lingering  a  little  on  our  way  to  note  some  of 
the  spots  we  pass,  famous  and  infamous,  "  in  our  proud 
island  story,"  and  annals  of  this  famous  London  town. 

What  splendid  pageantries  of  kings,  queens,  courtiers 
and  dames  ;  grim  processions  of  doomed  traitors  guarded 
by  armed  men  ;  troops  of  merry-makers  going  to  the  May- 
pole once  erected  in  the  Strand — removed  by  the  Puritans 
— "  when  England  was  merry  England  still,"  have  passed 
along  the  route  we  are  about  to  take.  The  space  called 
Charing  Cross,  one  of  the  most  central  in  London,  as  the 
numerous  busses  bearing  a  golden  cross  testify,  is  said 
to  have  derived  its  name  from  Eleanor,  the  "  chere  reine  " 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        109 

of  Edward  I.,  whose  body  rested  here  previous  to  its  in- 
terment in  Westminster  Abbey,  and  in  the  center  of  which 
her  husband  erected  the  most  beautiful  of  the  nine. crosses 
built  to  her  memory,  in  the  places  where  the  queen's 
body  rested.  It  was  pulled  down  by  order  of  the  Long 
Parliament,  and  the  stones  used  for  paving  the  streets  ! 

A  later  and  more  liberal  generation  has  built  a  fac- 
simile in  front  of  the  Charing  Cross  Hotel.  The  site  of  the 
original  monument  was  made  the  scene  of  execution  of 
many  of  the  regicides ;  here,  too,  General  Harrison  was 
beheaded,  with  his  face  toward  Whitehall.  Continuing 
along  the  Strand  with  its  many  memories  of  Train-Bands, 
mutinous  London  apprentices,  and  other  old-time  stories, 
past  Somerset  House,  the  Savoy,  Exeter  Hall,  the  splen- 
did pile  of  the  New  Law  Courts,  we  come  to  where  once 
stood  the  structure  known  as  Temple  Bar,  on  the  top  of 
which,  as  you  are  aware,  it  was  the  gentle  custom  of  our 
merry  forefathers  to  impale  on  iron  spikes  the  heads  of 
unfortunates  executed  for  high  treason,  an  event  not  un- 
frequently  occurring  in  the  good  old  times.  This  spot 
marked  the  boundaries  between  the  liberties  of  London 
and  Westminster,  and  so  jealous  were  the  ancient  citizens 
of  their  rights,  that  it  was  customary  to  close  the  gates  in 
the  face  of  royalty  on  occasion  of  the  visit  of  a  monarch 
to  the  city,  until  permission  to  enter  had  been  demanded 
of  the  Lord  Mayor,  standing  on  the  City  side.  The  last 
time  this  ceremony  occurred  was  in  1844,  when  the  Queen 
opened  the  Royal  Exchange.  As  the  ancient  gate-way 
standing  across  the  street  impeded  the  traffic  very  much 
it  has  been  removed,  and  a  bronze  griffin — supporter  of 
the  arms  of  the  city — standing  on  a  pedestal,  marks  its 


110        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

site.     Entering  Fleet   street,  with   the   beautiful  Temple 
buildings  on  your  right,  what  a  crowd  of  literary  celebrities 
your  imagination  conjures  up,  from  Wynkyn-de-Worde, 
the  famous  printer,  down  through  the  long  list  of  Jonson, 
Milton,  Dr.  Johnson,  Boswell,  Goldsmith,  Dryden,  Rich- 
ardson,  Dick   Steele,   and   others    of  their  days,   to  the 
many  brilliant  names  of  contributors  to  Punch,  and  other 
well  known  journals.     The  very   air  seems   redolent   of 
literary  men,  and  every  street,  alley  or  court  branching 
off  it,  full  of  recollections  of  them.     We  are  now  at  the 
foot  of  Ludgate  Hill,   said  to  be  called   after   a   British 
King  Lud,  before  the  time  of  Julius  Caesar.    Passing  under 
a   railway  arch  here  crossing  the  street,  we  look  up  the 
hill  and  see  the  noble  pile  of  St.  Paul's,  with  its  magnifi- 
cent dome,  and  statue  of  Queen  Anne  crowning  the  sum- 
mit.    Passing  along  St.  Paul's  Churchyard,  celebrated  as 
the  home  of  so  many  great  publishing  houses,  with  its 
pretty  garden,  where  rests  many  a  former  citizen — no  in- 
terments are   permitted   now— we  pause   to  think  if  we 
shall  continue  along  Watling  street,  once  part  of  a  great 
military  Roman  road  that  extended  all  across  the  island, 
even  to  the  sea,  and  echoed  to  the  tread  of  their  armed 
legions,   or    by   Cheapside,   Cornhill,   Leadenhall    street, 
Aldgate  and  the  Minories,  deciding  in  favour  of  the  latter 
route. 

How  much  of  the  ancient  history  of  this  great  town 
clusters  about  the  names  of  places  just  written.  In  Cheap- 
side,  Wat  Tyler  and  Jack  Cade  set  up  their  respective 
standards,  and  slew  their  victims  ;  and  the  great  prentice- 
riot  known  as  Evil  May-day  took  place.  Stowe  tells  us 
that  in  the  time  of  Edward  III.    divers  joustings  were 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        Ill 

held  here,  and  bluff  King  Hal,  disguised  as  a  yeoman  of 
the  guard,  once  came,  halbert  on  shoulder,  to  see  how  they 
kept  watch  and  ward  in  his  royal  city.  Cornhill  has 
many  memories  of  famous  business  houses,  and  taverns  ; 
among  the  latter,  the  Jerusalem,  the  Jamaica,  and  Garra- 
ways.  But  we  must  hurry  along  Leadenhall  street ; 
Aldgate,  with  its  old-fashioned  taverns  of  coaching  days, 
now  passed  away,  and  celebrated  pump  on  which  so 
many  imaginary  orders  are  drawn ;  by  the  Minories, 
headquarters  of  ready-made  and  "  old-clo "  merchants, 
on  to  Tower  lull,  grim  with  recollections  of  many  awful 
tragedies.  Among  the  host  beheaded  here  I  can  only 
stay  to  mention  Lord  Guildford  Dudley,  husband  of  Lady 
Jane  Grey ;  the  Earl  of  Strafford  ;  Archbishop  Laud  ;  Sir 
Harry  Vane  ;  Sir  Thomas  More,  great  and  good  ;  Algernon 
Sydney,  and  Lord  Lovet,  who  suffered  for  his  part  in  the 
rising  of  1745,  and  was  the  last  person  decapitated  in 
Great  Britain.  Pausing  a  moment  before  we  enter,  I  feel 
that  1  cannot  do  better  than  quote  from  W.  Hepworth 
Dixon  a  few  lines  relative  to  her  Majesty's  Tower  :  "  Seen 
from  the  hill  outside,  the  Tower  appears  to  be  white  with 
age  and  wrinkled  by  remorse.  The  home  of  our  stoutest 
kings,  the  grave  of  our  noblest  knights,  the  scene  of  our 
gayest  revels,  the  field  of  our  darkest  crimes."  *  *  *  * 
*'  Set  against  the  Tower  of  London — with  its  eight  hundred 
years  of  historic  life,  its  nineteen  hundred  years  of  tradi- 
ditional  fame — all  other  palaces  and  prisons  appear  like 
things  of  an  hour.  The  oldest  bit  of  palace  in  Europe, 
that  of  the  west  front  of  the  Burg  in  Vienna,  is  of  the 
time  of  Henry  III.  The  Kremlin  in  Moscow,  the  Doge's 
Palazzo  in  Venice,   are  of  the  fourteenth   century.     The 


112         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

Seraglio  in  Stamboul  was  built  by  Mahommed  II.  The 
oldest  part  of  the  Vatican  was  commenced  by  Borgia, 
whose  name  it  bears.  The  old  Louvre  was  commenced  in 
the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.;  the  Tuileries  in  that  of  Eliza- 
beth. In  the  time  of  our  civil  war,  Versailles  was  yet  a 
swamp.  Sans  Souci  and  the  Escorial  belong  to  the  eight- 
eenth century.  The  Serail  of  Jerusalem  is  a  Turkish 
edifice.  The  palaces  of  Athens,  of  Cairo,  of  Teheran,  are 
all  of  modern  date." 

What  an  ocean  of  thoughts  crowd  upon  your  mind  as 
descending  the  hill  toward  the  river,  and  passing  through 
an  outer  court,  where  are  numerous  specimens  of  beauti- 
ful and  ancient  cannon  captured  from  the  Turk,  and  other 
Eastern  potentates,  you  come  to  the  moat — now  dry  for 
sanitary  reasons,  and  laid  out  as  a  flower  garden — crossed 
by  a  stone  bridge,  and  defended  at  the  outer  end  by  the 
Middle  Tower,  with  portcullis,  and  at  the  inner  by  the 
Byeward  Tower.  Here,  presenting  your  "  order  "  to  the 
sentry,  you  are  passed  on  by  him  across  the  ballium  be- 
tween the  inner  and  outer  walls,  to  an  official  at  the 
Bloody  Tower,  scene  of  the  murder  of  the  two  princes  by 
their  uncle,  Richard  III.,  and  are  now  within  the  inner 
defences  of  the  fortress.  Here  we  were  put  in  charge  of 
a  Beef-eater  in  Tudor  costume,  a  noble  looking  old  fellow 
he  was,  too,  his  breasts  covered  with  medals  for  services 
in  the  Crimea,  India,  and  I  don't  know  where  else.  He 
was  very  intelligent,  and  knew  well  much  of  the  history 
of  what  he  showed  us;  of  the  illustrious  men  and  women 
who  had  landed  here  at  the  Queen's  Stair  or  by  the 
Traitor's  Gate — Buckingham,  Strafford,  Anne  Boleyn,  Lady 
Jane  Grey,  Princess  Elizabeth,  William  Wallace,  David 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         113 

Bruce,  Surrey,  Raleigh,  Guy  Fawkes,  and  a  host  of  others 
who'figure  in  our  country's  history,  and  few  of  whom  ever 
emerged  again  from  within  these  gloomy  walls.  The  spot 
on  which  the  gentle  nine  days'  queen  suffered  is  marked 
by  an  iron  cross,  and  in  St.  Peter's  Chapel  close  by  she,  with 
Thomas  Cromwell,  the  noble  Earl  of  Surrey,  the  good 
Duke  of  Somerset,  the  brilliant  Devereux,  Earl  of  Essex, 
Sir  Thomas  More,  and  many  of  her  own  sex,  among  them 
Anne  Boleyn,  sleep  their  last  sleep.  Entering  the  great 
White  Tower,  built  by  the  Conqueror  to  overawe  his  rest- 
less Anglo-Saxon  subjects,  we  visited  the  different  armour- 
ies with  their  magnificent  collections,  ancient  and  modern, 
of  all  nations.  Suits  of  plate  armour,  chain  armour, 
leathern  armour,  armour  beautifully  damascened,  or  in- 
laid with  gold  and  silver  in  richest  devices  ;  cross-bows, 
long-bows,  lances,  halberts,  pikes,  swords  and  daggers, 
many  of  exquisite  workmanship,  the  hilts  heavily  en- 
crusted with  gems  ;  helmets,  morions,  gauntlets,  spurs  ; 
in  short,  every  kind  of  military  paraphernalia. 

Nor  must  I  forget  the  thumb-screws,  boots,  rack,  and 
other  instruments  of  torture  of  horrible  device,  that  our 
gentle  progenitors  were  so  addicted  to  in  the  "  good  old 
times,"  and  in  such  endless  variety  they  would  need  a 
volume  to  describe. 

The  Horse  Armoury,  a  modern  building,  opening  off 
the  White  Tower,  is  a  grand  collection  of  equestrian  fig- 
ures in  every  variety  of  armour  for  man  and  beast,  from 
the  earliest  times.  Among  them  I  may  mention  in  their 
own  actual  suits  and  weapons  Henry  VIII.;  Charles  Bran- 
don, Duke  of  Suffolk;  Robert  Dudley,  Earl  of  Leicester ; 


114        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

and  hosts  of  other  knights,  and  men-at-arms,  each  in  ap- 
propriate costume. 

Among  objects  of  special  interest  is  the  ax  and  block  by 
which  poor  Lady  Jane  Gray  was  beheaded,  and,  to  show 
that  nothing  is  new  under  the  sun,  several  specimens  of 
ancient  revolving  pistols,  as  well  as  cannon. 

Queen  Elizabeth's  and  the  Indian  armouries,  beautiful 
and  interesting  as  they  are,  I  must  pass  by,  merely  men- 
tioning as  I  go  that  off  the  former  of  these  is  a  cell  in  the 
thickness  of  the  wall,  said  to  have  been  the  prison  of  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh,  and  where  he  wrote  his  celebrated  "  His- 
toric of  the  Worlde."  How  he  managed  it,  except  he  was 
allowed  the  privilege  of  the  beautifully  vaulted  apart- 
ment from  which  it  opens,  I  cannot  conceive,  as  it  has  no 
light  save  from  the  doorway.  On  the  jambs  of  the  same 
door,  cut  into  the  stone,  are  the  inscriptions: 

HE  THAT  INDVEETH  TO  THE  ENDE 
SHALL  BE  SAVID. 
M.  10. 
E.  EVDSTON, 

DAE.,  KENT,  ANO  1553. 
BE  FAITH FVL  UNTO  DETH  AND  I  WILL 
GIVE  THEE  A  CEOWNE  OF  LIFE. 

T.  FANE,  1554. 
T.  CVLPEPPEE,  OF  DAETFOED. 

These  are  the  work  of  men  taken  in  "  Sir  Thomas  Wyatt's 
Rising  of  the  Men  of  Kent,"  caused  by  the  proposed 
marriage  of  Queen  Mary  to  Philip,  King  of  Spain.  Nu- 
merous other  inscriptions  are  to  be  seen  in  this  and  the 
outer  towers,  the  work  of  sorrowing  prisoners  in  weary 
years.  The  most  elaborate  are  to  be  found  in  the  Beau- 
champ  Tower,  among  them  the  IANE,  of  Lord  Guildford 
Dudley,  sorrowing  for  his  bride — a  large  piece  consisting 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD,  WORLD.         115 

of  three  wheat-sheaves  (arms  of  the  family),  a  crucifix, 
skeleton,  a  bleeding  heart,  and  the  word  PEVEREL  ;  and 
near  the  fire-place  a  beautifully  executed  device  of  a  lion 
and  bear  grasping  a  ragged  staff,  the  family  badge  of 
John  Dudley,  Earl  of  Warwick,  whose  work  this  is  said 
to  be.  All  are  carefully  protected  by  metal  stanchions 
sunk  into  the  stone  floor,  through  which  a  red-covered 
hand-rope  runs,  no  one  being  permitted  inside,  but  our 
good-natured  Tudor-clad  attendant  did  not  stick  rigidly 
to  the  rule.  Time  would  not  permit  me  to  copy  more 
than  I  have  mentioned,  and  so  return  we  again  to  the 
vaulted  room  we  left  in  the  White  Tower,  and  ascending 
still  by  the  winding  staircase,  built  around  a  nowel  or 
circular  column,  and  easily  defended  by  a  few  resolute 
men,  we  come  to  the  story  containing  the  Chapel  of  St. 
John,  one  of  the  finest  and  most  perfect  specimens  of 
Norman  architecture  in  the  kingdom  :  in  an  adjoining 
apartment  the  dynamite  explosion  occurred,  fortunately 
not  doing  much  damage,  or  causing  loss  of  life.  Here, 
too,  is  the  ancient  Council  Chamber  of  our  kings,  where 
the  Protector,  Richard,  Duke  of  Gloucester,  ordered  Lord 
Hastings  to  instant  execution  in  front  of  St.  Peter's 
Chapel,  for  his  apparent  defence  of  Jane  Shore. 

You  have  also  pointed  out  to  you  where  John  Baliol, 
King  of  Scots  ;  Griffin,  Prince  of  Wales ;  the  famous 
troubadour  Prince  Charles  of  France  ;  Ralph  Flambard, 
Bishop  of  Durham,  and  numerous  others  whose  names 
are  embalmed  in  our  country's  story,  were  confined  for 
religious  or  political  differences,  or  too  often  at  the  whim 
of  a  tyrant.  Ascending  with  a  lady  friend  to  the  leads 
above  the  tower — M.,  as  I  have  said  before,   not  liking 


116        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

giddy  heights — what  a  scene  meets  the  view;  the  world 
has  not  its  equal.  The  crowded,  busy  river — we  are  now 
below  bridges — with  its  forests  of  masts  od  both  banks; 
the  huge  city — pregnant  with  vast  evil  and  I  trust  vaster 
good — its  abject  poverty  and  enormous  wealth — stretching 
far  as  the  eye  can  reach  on  all  sides,  and  below  at  your 
feet  the  "  Green,"  with  its  bloody  memories.  Not  here, 
though,  but  in  old  Palace  Yard,  Westminster,  he  being 
removed  the  day  before,  fell  the  "  proudest  head  that  ever 
rolled  in  English  dust,"  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's — a  victim  to 
the  machinations  of  Spain,  and  the  pusillanimity  of  a 
weak  Stuart  king.  Descending  again,  though  loath 
enough  to  do  so,  we  were  taken  to  the  dungeons  beneath 
the  pile,  some  without  a  ray  of  light,  and  all  horrible 
enough  ;  among  them  "  Little  Ease,"  the  prison  of  Guy 
Fawkes.  Emerging  therefrom  thankful  for  the  light  of 
day,  and  that  our  lot  was  cast  in  happier  times,  as  well  as 
to  our  guide  for  his  patience  with  us,  we  wended  our  way 
back  to  the  westward  by  Eastcheape,  our  minds  full  of 
old-time  stories,  but  failed  to  see  Dame  Quickly,  Poins, 
Prince  Hal,  or  the  fat  Knight,  lounging  at  any  tavern 
door. 

Before  I  shake  off  the  dust  of  the  town  entirely  per- 
haps I  ought  to  tell  you  that  we  one  evening  went  to  the 
Albert  Hall — the  largest  in  Europe,  and  capable  of  seat- 
ing ten  thousand  people — to  a  Balfe  Memorial  Concert, 
and  heard  some  splendid  singing.  Among  the  artists 
were  Christine  Nilsson,  Madame  Trebelli,  Miss  Hope 
Glenn  (most  charming  of  songstresses),  Mr.  Sims  Reeves, 
Mr.  Joseph  Mass  and  others.  What  a  treat  it  was  to  us 
to  hear  such  music,  so  beautifully  sung.     And  how  aston- 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD   WORLD.        117 

ished,  too,  we  were  at  the  flute-like  notes  of  the  veteran 
Sims  Reeves,  who  warbled,  "  Come  Into  the  Garden,  Maud," 
with  cornet  obligato,  most  deliciously.  By  this  time  I 
imagine  you  have  enough  of  London,  and  so,  learning  from 
the  papers  that  the  queen  will  return  to  Windsor  in  a 
couple  of  days,  let  us  go  down  there  before  the  state 
apartments  are  closed. 

On  Kamehameha's  day,  then — 11th  of  June — and  as 
perfect  a  summer's  day  as  even  you  can  boast  in  Hawaii 
nei,  off  we  set  through  a  lovely  country,  the  air  rich 
with  the  perfume  of  flowers,  past  pretty  towns,  villages, 
and  railway  stations  —  preeminent  among  the  latter 
Slough,  with  its  rustic  arbors,  seats  and  gardens — the 
silvery  Thames  winding  in  devious  course  through  emerald 
meadows,  and  covered  with  every  description  of  pleasure 
boat,  to  see  the  world-renowned  palace  of  a  long  line  of 
monarchs.  On  our  arrival  at  Windsor  we  found  that  a 
four-horse  coach  ran  down  from  town  every  day  during 
the  summer,  and  regretted  we  did  not  know  it  sooner  ; 
how  glorious  it  would  have  been  to  spin  along  after  a 
good  team  in  the  balmy  summer  air.  What  a  stately  pile 
the  castle  is !  How  grand  it  looks  towering  above  the 
streets  of  the  pretty  town,  and  how  wonderfully  clean,  I 
had  almost  said  new-looking — only  that  we  cannot  build 
anything  like  it  in  these  degenerate  days — free  from  the 
dirt  and  smoke  of  the  great  town  we  lately  left !  Advanc- 
ing up  the  cleanly  street  of  the  pretty  ancient  town,  over 
which  the  Curfew  and  Salisbury  towers  seem  to  keep 
watch  and  ward,  you  enter  the  castle  precincts  by  Henry 
VIII.  gate,  but  not  before  you  have  had  many  offers  of 
"  authorized  guides  "  in  uniform — but  wTith  whose  services 


118         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

we  dispensed.  Proceeding  up  the  paved  yard  of  the  castle, 
having  passed  the  sentry,  with  the  houses  of  the  mili- 
tary knights  on  your  right;  soldiers'  quarters,  St.  George's, 
and  Albert  Memorial  Chapels,  and  the  beautiful  horse- 
shoe cloisters,  built  by  Edward  IV.,  on  your  left,  you 
then  apply  at  the  Lord  Chamberlain's  office  for  gratis 
tickets  to  view  the  State  Apartments,  armed  with  which 
upward  still  you  go  ;  beautifully  laid-out  gardens  on  your 
right,  and  to  the  left  the  splendid  line  of  the  North  Ter- 
race, overlooking  the  town,  school,  and  playing  fields  of 
Eton,  separated  from  you  by  the  silvery  Thames.  A 
short  walk,  and  passing  through  the  Norman  Tower,  grim 
and  solid  in  its  antiquity,  you  are  in  the  great  quadrangle, 
having  left  the  Round  Tower  to  your  right  as  you  came 
in  at  the  Norman  Gate,  and  the  main  building  with  the 
State  Apartments  is  before  you.  You  are  admitted  in 
parties  of  fifteen  or  twenty,  at  intervals  of  about  a  quarter 
of  an  hour;  attendants  go  round  with  you,  but  are  strictly 
forbidden  to  receive  a  fee.  While  waiting  near  the  low 
postern-gate  by  which  you  enter,  for  our  turn  to  come — 
walking  to  and  fro  past  which  was  a  stalwart  Highland 
sentry — I  was  much  struck,  and  somewhat  indignant,  to 
notice  one  of  the  "  sovereign  people  "  here  in  the  court- 
yard of  the  queen's  palace,  leaning  up  against  its  very 
walls,  coolly  smoking  a  short  pipe,  as  if  the  whole  concern 
belonged  to  him.  Who  shall  say  after  that  we  are  not  a 
democratic,  and  mayhap  an  ill-bred  people.  Well,  our 
turn  coming  we  followed  our  guide  through  narrow  pas- 
sages, up  many  stone  stairs,  and  emerged  on  a  fine  staircase 
with  numerous  paintings,  on  through  the  Ante-Room  and 
into   the  Audience  Chamber,  the  ceiling  of  which  has  a 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         119 

beautiful  allegorical  painting  of  Queen  Catherine  as  Britan- 
nia, with  attendant  nymphs  and  goddesses,  by  Verrio  ;  the 
walls  are  covered  with  Gobelin  tapestry  representing  the 
story  of  Esther,  portraits  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  and  other 
royalties.  Next  the  Presence  Chamber,  another  allegorical 
ceiling,  in  which  Catherine  of  Braganza  again  is  the  prin- 
cipal figure,  and  the  story  of  Esther  continued  in  the 
beautiful  tapestry  on  the  walls,  with  more  distinguished 
portraits.  The  gorgeous  furniture  heavy  with  gold,  some 
of  it  ugly  enough  though,  I  will  spare  you,  and  now  go 
into  the  Guard  Chamber.  This,  like  the  Tower,  contains 
a  fine  collection  of  arms  and  armour,  and  like  it  too,  very 
ingeniously  arranged  in  all  sorts  of  curious  and  beautiful 
devices.  I  may  mention  suits  once  belonging  to  Lord 
Howard  of  Effingham,  the  great  commander  against  the 
Spanish  Armada  ;  Earl  of  Essex  ;  Henry,  Prince  of  Wales, 
and  Prince  Rupert  the  dashing  cavalier ;  and,  what  in- 
terested me  much,  a  piece  of  the  "  Victory's  "  foremast  shot 
through  at  Trafalgar;  also  an  exquisitely  wrought  shield 
presented  to  Henry  VIII.  by  Francis  I.  of  France,  at  the 
Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold,  by  Benvenuto  Cellini.  Next 
we  enter  St.  George's  Hall,  200  feet  long,  34  feet  broad, 
32  feet  high,  a  splendid  room,  gorgeously  painted,  both 
ceiling  and  walls,  with  the  emblazoned  arms  of  the  knights, 
from  its  institution  to  the  present  time,  commencing 
with  Edward  III.  and  the  Black  Prince,  and  ending  with 
the  Earl  of  Beaconsfield  and  Marquis  of  Salisbury  ;  at  the 
east  end  is  the  sovereign's  throne.  The  grand  Reception 
Room  is  a  gorgeous  apartment  in  the  style  of  Louis  XIV., 
its  walls  embellished  with  the  story  of  Jason  and  Medea, 
in  Gobelin   tapestry.     The   Waterloo   Chamber  contains 


120        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

numerous  portraits  by  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence,  of  sover- 
eigns of  Europe,  and  great  statesmen  and  warriors  during 
the  eventful  years  of  1813-14-15,  and  in  it  many  of  the 
state  banquets  are  given.  Thence  through  the  Grand 
Vestibule  and  State  Ante- Room,  each  rich  in  paintings, 
sculpture  and  fine  art,  into  the  Zucarelli  Room,  full  of 
subjects  by  that  artist,  and  so  to  the  Van  Dyck  Room, 
with  many  splendid  portraits  by  the  great  master.  We 
leave  these  interesting  apartments  by  King  John's  Stairs, 
and  emerge  close  to  where  we  entered,  highly  pleased  ; 
but  I  am  ashamed  to  say  having  forgotten  to  mention 
much  exquisite  wood-carving  by  Grinling  Gibbons.  Re- 
tracing our  steps  to  the  left  side  of  the  Norman  Arch — 
on  our  way  out — we  enter  the  Round  Tower,  built  on  the 
highest  ground  within  the  walls,  and  from  the  top  of 
which  the  Royal  Standard  is  hoisted  when  her  Majesty 
is  in  residence.  This  tower  is  very  ancient,  and  looks  it, 
many  distinguished  state  prisoners  have  been  confined 
here,  among  whom  we  may  mention  King  John  of  France, 
King  David  of  Scotland,  Queen  Phillippa,  and  others. 
As  you  enter  and  go  up  the  stone  stairs,  you  will  see  an 
old  cannon  grinning  through  a  hole  in  the  wall  right  in 
your  face,  and  commanding  the  staircase.  Leaving  M. 
in  company  and  conversation  with  two  American  ladies — 
whom  we  often  saw  afterwards  at  different  places — sitting 
on  a  stone  bench  on  a  landing,  I,  with  our  "  charming 
little  cicerone  friend,"  ascended  to  the  summit  of  the 
tower.  What  a  lovely  view  !  I  do  not  want  to  go  into 
ecstacies,  but  I  never  saw  aught  so  fair,  I  think.  It  was  a 
perfect  day  in  earth  and  sky,  twelve  counties  lay  before 
us,  the  castle  gardens  and  terraces  below,  and  far  as  the 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        121 

eye  could  reach  the  lovely  river  winding  in  serpentine 
fashion  like  a  silver  ribbon,  and  in  the  vicinity  of  Eton 
covered  with  boats,  barges  and  gondolas,  gay  with  paint 
and  flags.  I  will  spare  you  the  walks  on  the  terraces 
with  the  charming  views  thence  and  the  many  objects  of 
interest,  because  I  want  you  to  go  with  us  into  the  beau- 
tiful St.  George's  Chapel.  I  will  be  as  brief  as  I  can,  but 
it  is  so  grand,  and  made  such  an  impression  on  us,  I 
must  tell  you  something  of  it.  I  have  not  attempted  any 
of  the  ancient  history  of  the  castle,  for  I  thought  perhaps 
you  were  tiring  of  such  things,  but  the  first  chapel  erected 
within  the  walls  of  Windsor,  and  on  this  spot,  was  by 
Henry  II.  in  the  twelfth  century,  dedicated  to  St.  Edward, 
and  when  Edward  III.  in  1348  founded  the  Order  of  the 
Garter  this  present  chapel  was  built  for  the  knights  of 
that  order,  of  which  St.  George  is  patron. 

I  do  not  purpose  a  description  of  all  the  beautiful 
monuments  it  and  the  various  side  chapels  contain,  but 
I  must  mention  the  cenotaph,  by  Wyatt,  to  the  Princess 
Charlotte,  so  very  beautiful  is  it  with  its  weeping  group  in 
white  marble ;  a  monument  to  the  Prince  Imperial  of 
France  and  a  tablet  to  Prince  Alamayu,  son  of  King 
Theodore  of  Abysinnia — who  died  in  England — placed 
here  by  the  queen.  The  windows  are  very  gorgeous,  par- 
ticularly the  west  window  filled  with  old  glass  found  in 
the  chapel,  and  containing  numerous  figures  of  saints, 
prophets,  kings  and  knights.  Under  the  window  is  a 
scroll  with  the  prayer  peculiar  to  St.  George's  order — in 
old  black-letter  English — "  God  save  Our  Gracious  Sov- 
ereign and  all  the  Companions  of  the  Most  Honourable  and 
Noble  Order  of  the  Garter."     You  are  now  looking  into 


122         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

the  choir,  remarkable  for  its  exquisite  oak  carvings  of  the 
date  of  Henry  VII.  The  stalls  are  arranged  on  either 
side  and  over  each  hangs  the  banner,  helmet,  crest  and 
sword  of  a  Knight  of  the  Garter.  There  are  twenty -five 
knights,  including  the  sovereign ;  princes  of  blood  royal 
and  foreign  princes  rank  as  Knight  Companions  without 
reference  to  this  number.  The  stall  on  your  right  as  you 
enter  is  that  of  the  sovereign,  gorgeous  with  canopy  and 
curtains  of  velvet  bordered  with  gold  fringe  ;  on  the  left 
that  of  the  Prince  of  Wales.  The  back  of  the  stalls  is 
literally  covered  with  brass  plates  emblazoned  with  the 
arms,  names  and  titles  of  the  knights  from  earliest  dates, 
and  retain  their  brilliancy  of  colouring  wonderfully.  On 
the  death  of  a  knight  his  banner  is  removed,  but  the  plate 
remains,  as  we  saw  in  the  recent  case  of  Earl  Beaconsfield. 
There  is  a  beautiful  stained-glass  window  over  the  altar  to 
the  memory  of  the  late  Prince  Consort.  The  Reredos  of 
sculptured  alabaster  is  very  fine,  representing  The  Ascen- 
sion, Christ  Appearing  to  His  Disciples,  and  Meeting  of 
Mary  in  the  Garden.  A  grey  marble  slab  in  center  of  the 
choir  marks  the  vault  in  which  lie  Henry  VIIL,  his 
queen  Jane  Seymour,  and  Charles  I.  Near  by  is  the 
tomb  of  Edward  IV.  and  his  queen  Elizabeth  Woodville; 
to  the  left  of  it  a  most  intricate  specimen  of  iron-work, 
almost  lace-like  in  its  fineness,  and  attributed  to  Quentin 
Matsys  by  some,  by  others  to  an  English  artist.  Unfor- 
tunately for  us,  visitors  were  not  then  admitted  to  the 
Albert  Memorial  Chapel,  in  consequence  of  the  dynamite 
outrages,  and  we  were  told  that  probably  it  would  not  be 
open  again  during  the  queen's  life.  The  public  are  now 
admitted  to  the  Tower  and  Houses  of  Parliament  as  before, 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         123 

but  I  do  not  know  how  it  is  as  regards  this  sumptuous 
chapel.  Next  we  visited  the  cloisters  of  Edward  IV.  r 
recently  restored,  around  which  are  the  houses  of  the  lay- 
clerks  of  St.  George's  Chapel.  How  cool  and  placid  they 
seemed  after  the  glare  of  the  sun  and  tread  of  soldiery  in 
the  paved  court-yard.  Leaving — I  may  say  tearing  our- 
selves away  from — the  castle  we  got  an  open  carriage  and 
drove  into  the  park,  which,  with  the  forest,  contains  13,000 
acres.  We  went  down  the  Long  Walk,  a  distance  of  three 
miles,  with  an  equestrian  statue  of  George  III.  at  the  end. 
Magnificent  elms  are  planted  on  either  side;  on  the  left  is 
Frogmore  House,  the  Royal  Mausoleum  containing  the 
body  of  the  Prince  Consort,  the  royal  dairy,  the  royal 
aviary,  and  the  Prince  Consort's  farm;  on  the  right,  royal 
tapestry  works,  Runnemede — scene  of  the  granting  of 
Magna  Charta — and  Beaumont  College,  none  of  which 
time  permitted  us  to  visit.  What  grand  old  oaks  this  fine 
domain  contains ;  Heme's  oak  has  fallen,  but  Queen 
Elizabeth's  and  Shakespeare's,  with  many  other  monarchs, 
who  have  worn  their  leafy  crowns  a  thousand  years,  yet 
remain.  Return  we  now  to  town,  our  senses  satiated  with 
the  many  beauties  of  this  to  us  memorable  day.  Well  may 
James  Russell  Lowell  say  : 

"  What  is  bo  rare  as  a  day  in  June. 
Then,  if  ever,  come  perfect  days.11 

Now  let  us  change  our  mode  of  locomotion  and  proceed 
by  river  to  Hampton  Court  Palace  ;  but  ere  we  start,  as  I 
find  I  have  never  told  you  how  we  often  got  about  the 
city,  I  will  enlighten  you  on  that  matter  first.  Well,  don't 
be  shocked  when  you  hear  that  if  the  day  was  fair  and  the 
line  of  route  suited  us,  we  invariably  mounted  on  the  top 


124        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

of  a  "  bus,"  they  being  so  arranged  that  a  woman  can  do  it 
with  ease.  The  advantage  of  this  is  that  you  see  all  the 
buildings,  busy  streets,  and  thousand-and-one  objects  of 
interest  around  you,  much  better  than  you  could  in  any 
other  way.  No  one  knows  you,  and,  if  they  did,  pehea  ae 
nei  f  Perhaps  it  would  not  be  altogether  correct  for  a  lady 
to  go  alone,  but  if  she  has  a  male  escort  I  should  counsel, 
"  go  by  all  means."  Well,  to  resume:  On  another  fair  June 
day,  but  cool  enough  on  the  river,  our  usual  party  em- 
barked from  a  pier  at  foot  of  the  street  we  Jived  in,  on  a 
steamer  prying  to  above-named  destination,  gay  with 
bunting,  music  and  holiday-makers.  The  whole  way  is 
full  of  interest  from  the  moment  of  starting  until  you 
arrive  at  your  journey's  end. 

On  your  right  hand  is  the  noble  Victoria  embankment 
with  the  gardens  and  Montague  House,  opposite  the  long 
line  of  St.  Thomas'  Hospital  and  Doulton's  celebrated 
pottery  works,  extending  nearly  to  Westminster  bridge. 
Passing  under  this  noble  structure — our  steamer's  funnel 
that  works  on  a  hinge  being  lowered  to  permit  it — with 
the  splendid  edifice  of  the  Houses  of  Parliament,  their 
walls  washed  by  the  river,  and  gilded  towers  and  pin- 
nacles glistening  in  the  morning  sun  on  your  right,  you 
soon  come  to  Chelsea,  ever  the  famous  haunt  of  genius 
and  learned  and  eminent  men  ;  from  Thomas  More,  great 
and  good  Chancellor  of  our  VIII.  Henry,  to  Thomas  Car- 
lyle,  sage  and  grumbler,  of  the  Victorian  era.  Its  fine 
park,  military  hospital,  the  noted  Cheyne-walk  and  botan- 
ical gardens,  are  on  the  Middlesex  shore,  and  on  the  oppo- 
site bank  the  beautiful  park  and  gardens  of  Battersea. 
On   past    numerous    shipyards,    notably   Thorney croft's, 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         125 

where  are  built  no  end  of  steam-launches,  wicked-looking 
torpedo  boats  and  other  mosquito  crafts  ;  by  Kew  on  the 
further  shore,  with  its  magnificent  gardens,  perhaps  the 
finest  in  the  world.  Now  past  Brentford,  Putney  and 
Twickenham,  rich  in  its  memories  of  "Strawberry  Hill," 
Horace  Walpole  and  Pope  ;  and  who  has  not  heard  of  the 
"Ferry?"  Richmond,  on  the  other  bank,  soon  claims  your 
attention,  the  Tivoli  of  England,  as  it  is  called.  The 
scenes  here  has  become  almost  too  exquisite  ;  the  "Hill," 
so  celebrated  in  song  for  its  "  sweet  lass,"  crowned  with 
noble  buildings ;  the  splendid,  well-wooded  park  ;  the 
"  silent  highway"  along  which  we  are  travelling  ;  and 
the  many  charming  villa  residences  on  its  banks,  you 
ought  to  see  to  be  able  to  appreciate.  The  view  looking 
down  the  river  after  leaving  this  I  shall  never  forget  the 
beauty  of;  nor  shall  I  quickly  forget  a  young  rapscallion 
who  joined  us  here,  running  along  the  bank  of  the  river 
just  abreast  of  our  boat,  throwing  summersaults,  making 
wheels  of  himself,  at  every  landing  steps  on  the  edge  of 
the  stream  walking  down  on  his  hands  or  standing  on 
his  head,  and  yet  managing  to  keep  up  with  the  boat  all 
the  way  to  Hampton.  I  do  not  think  I  ever  saw  such 
untiring  energy  displayed  before  by  one  so  young — cer- 
tainly not  more  than  10  or  12  years  of  age — and  showers 
of  pennies  rewarded  his  exertions  at  every  stopping  place 
we  came  to.  After  passing  through  Teddington  Lock, 
above  which  there  is  no  tidal  water,  the  now  brimming 
river  is,  if  it  be  possible,  more  beautiful  still — fringed 
with  willows  and  alders,  noble  oaks  and  elms  further  back; 
many  small  wooded  islets  studding  its  bosom  ;  stately 
swan6  and  cygnets  sailing  majestically  past,  unmindful  of 


126        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

man  ;  boating  and  fishing  parties — the  former  enlivening 
the  scene  with  merry  song,  laughter  and  jest ;  the  latter 
equally  enjoying  themselves  in  the  silence  best  suited  to 
the  "gentle  craft."  Splendid  mansions  and  villas  adorn 
its  banks,  their  well-kept  lawns  sloping  down  to  the  river's 
edge.  Among  them  I  must  mention  Lion  House,  formerly 
an  ecclesiastical  edifice,  now  rebuilt  by  a  Duke  of  North- 
umberland, and  surmounted  by  the  well-known  horizon- 
tal-tailed lion  once  over  the  palace  of  the  Percies  at  Cha- 
ring Cross,  which  also  occupied  the  site  of  the  Priory  of 
St.  Mary  Rouncival,  but  is  now  covered  by  shops  and  the 
Grand  Hotel.  The  perfect,  quiet  beauty  of  the  whole 
landscape,  bright  sun  and  blue  sky  above,  the  gleaming 
river  beneath,  and  the  lovely  verdure  of  our  surroundings, 
could  not  fail  to  charm  and  soothe  the  most  misanthrop- 
ical of  mortals,  in  which  category  certainly  none  of  our 
party  were  this  day  included. 

After  landing,  ten  minutes'  walk  through  the  pretty, 
clean  little  town  brought  us  to  the  entrance  gates  of  the 
splendid  mansion  of  Hampton  Court  Palace.  Built 
originally  by  Cardinal  Wolsey  for  himself — the  great 
churchman  had  an  eye  to  the  picturesque,  though  little 
remains  of  the  original  structure — it  was  greatly  admired 
by  his  royal  master,  when  the  cardinal,  probably  con- 
sulting his  own  interests,  generously  presented  it  to  him  ; 
the  king,  not  to  be  outdone  in  generosity,  giving  him  in 
return  the  manor  of  Richmond.  Since  that  time  it  has 
remained  a  royal  palace,  and  been  at  intervals  the  resi- 
dence of  several  kings.  Henry  VIII.  lived  here  awhile, 
his  son  Edward  VI.,  to  whom  we  as  churchmen  owe  so 
much,  was  born  here  ;  and  here  his  mother,  Jane  Seymour, 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        127 

died.  Charles  I.  was  confined  in  this  palace  for  a  time, 
and  Cromwell,  Charles  II.,  James  II.  and  William  III. 
have  all  made  it  their  residence,  especially  the  last-named 
monarch,  who  laid  out  the  beautiful  quaint  gardens — con- 
taining forty-four  acres — in  Dutch  style,  with  raised 
terraces,  formal  flower-beds,  now  glorious  in  their  rich 
variety  of  colour,  and  trim  arcades,  not  forgetting  the 
celebrated  "  maze."  Here,  too,  among  sculpture,  fountains 
and  vases,  in  an  enormous  hot-house — with  its  stem  and 
root  outside — you  will  be  shown  the  far-famed  vine,  said 
to  be  the  oldest  and  largest  in  Europe.  It  is  of  the  Black 
Hamburg  variety,  its  girth  three  feet,  principal  branch 
114  feet  long,  average  yield  per  annum  2,300  bunches  of  a 
pound  each,  and  'tis  surmised  that  its  roots  have  travelled 
to  the  bed  of  the  river  some  thirty  feet  distant,  hence,  its 
great  size  and  prolificness.  This  beautiful  residence,  no 
longer  occupied  by  royalty  is,  except  the  State  Apartments, 
which  are  open  gratis  to  tbe  public,  occupied  by  decayed 
nobles  and  court  pensioners,  of  whom  we  saw  several  in 
the  gardens  and  grounds.  Entering  by  the  King's  Great 
Staircase — meretriciously  magnificent — ceiling  and  walls 
covered  with  gods,  goddesses,  nymphs,  satyrs,  muses, 
zephyrs  and  cupids,  of  the  time  of  Charles  II.,  we  en- 
ter the  King's  Guard  Chamber  of  William  III.,  curiously 
decorated  with  old  arms,  thence  into  the  Presence  Cham- 
ber, with  the  Canopy  of  State  of  the  same  monarch,  and 
much  exquisite  wrood  carving  over  fire-place  and  doors  by 
Grinling  Gibbons,  in  this  and  other  rooms  of  the  suite ; 
"  nothing  can  exceed  the  lightness  and  delicacy  of  the 
festoons  of  flowers  and  fruit " — carved  by  him — "  in  lime- 
wood."     In  the  same  room,  too,  are  the  Hampton  Court 


128        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD   WORLD. 

Beauties  of  William  and  Mary,  by  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller, 
and  many  other  pictures.  Next  comes  the  Second  Pres- 
ence Chamber,  wood  carving  by  Grinling  Gibbons,  and 
many  fine  paintings  by  Tintoretto,  Velasquez  and  other 
ancient  masters.  King's  Audience  Chamber,  rich  again 
in  a  perplexity  of  fine  paintings  and  portraits,  by  Paul 
Veronese,  Titian,  and  other  great  masters.  Through 
the  King's  Drawing  Room,  adorned  like  the  last,  we  enter 
William  III.  State  Bed-room;  this  is  a  very  splendid 
apartment,  the  lofty  ceiling  painted  with  designs  emblem- 
atic of  sleep,  and  said  to  be  one  of  Verrio's  best  efforts  ; 
"  Endymion  "  reposing  in  the  lap  of  "  Morpheus,"  "  Diana  " 
in  her  crescent  watching  him  as  he  slumbers  ;  also  a  fine 
figure  of  "  Somnus  "  and  attendants.  "  The  St&te  bed  is 
not  that  of  the  monarch  from  whom  the  room  is  named, 
but  of  Queen  Caroline,  the  hangings  and  coverlet  beauti- 
fully embroidered  in  lilac  satin."  The  chief  attraction  of 
this  room  being  the  famous  collection  by  Sir  Peter  Lely, 
of  Charles  II.,  Beauties  formerly  known  as  the  "  Windsor 
Beauties,"  because  they  hung  in  the  Queen's  bed-chamber 
at  Windsor  Castle.  Many  are  certainly  fair  to  look  upon, 
and  the  painter  has  succeeded  in  imparting  to  most  of 
them  that  air  of  langour  and  voluptuousness,  much  prized 
in  those  days,  and  that  no  doubt  pleased  his  royal  master, 
and  would  have  told  us  much  of  their  stories,  even  had 
memoir  writers  been  silent.  I  will  not  attempt  to 
enumerate  them,  beautiful  though  they  be,  and  will  just 
remark  in  passing  that  the  portrait  misnamed  "  Nell 
Gwynne,"  is  that  of  Marie  d'  Este.  Spite  of  the  traditional 
beauty  of  these  stately  dames  I  could  not  but  contrast 
them  in  my  own  mind,  much  to  their  disadvantage,  with 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        129 

many  lovely  pictures  of  blooming  English  matrons  and 
maids,  charming  and  fresh  in  their  purity  and  truthful- 
ness, adorning  the  walls  of  the  Royal  Academy. 

I  must  not  detain  you  with  attempted  description  of 
every  room,  but  will  merely  name  them  as  we  pass,  ask- 
ing you  to  bear  in  mind  that  each  and  all  have  gorgeously 
decorated  ceilings,  rich  antique  furniture,  rare  china,  many 
valuable  pictures,  exquisite  wood  carving ;  and  in  some, 
very  beautiful  tapestry.  The  next  in  order  is  the  King's 
Dressing  Room  ;  then  the  King's  Writing  Closet  with  a  pri- 
vate door  into  the  garden,  and  a  mirror  over  the  chimney 
piece  so  arranged  as  to  afford  a  view  in  vista  of  all  the 
State  Apartments  this  side  of  the  palace.  The  scene  from 
the  windows  of  this  room  over  grounds,  parks  and  gar- 
dens, is  lovely  in  the  extreme.  Next  comes  Queen  Mary's 
Closet ;  then  the  Queen's  Gallery  eighty-one  feet  long  by 
twenty-five  broad,  beautifully  tapestried  with  the  story  of 
"Alexander  the  Great ;"  much  and  rare  blue  and  white 
china,  and  a  beautiful  looking-glass,  brass  ornamented. 
Queen  Anne's  Bed-room,  with  all  its  original  furniture 
worked  in  elaborate  pattern  of  flowers  and  roses,  on  white 
satin,  looks  stiff  and  stately;  I  think  I  prefer  my  own  for 
comfort.  Next,  the  same  queen's  Drawing-room,  the  view 
from  which  is  perhaps  more  strikingly  beautiful  than  the 
one  mentioned  before.  This  splendid  room  is  devoted  to 
paintings  by  Benjamin  West,  among  which  I  can  only  stay 
to  mention  "The  Death  of  the  Chevalier  Bayard"  and  "The 
Death  of  General  Wolfe  ;"  perhaps  I  ought  not  to  leave  out 
"  Queen  Charlotte,  aged  thirty-six,  with  her  thirteen  chil- 
dren." Now  through  the  Audience  Chamber  into  the  Pub- 
lic Dining-room,  where  George  II.  used  occasionally  to  dine 


130        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

in  public,  as  did  the  former  kings  of  France ;  through 
fifteen  or  sixteen  more  presence  chambers,  closets,  drawing 
rooms,  bed  rooms  and  galleries,  all  full  of  treasures  of  art 
and  beauty,  go  we  now  to  the  great  hall  on  the  ground 
floor.  I  am  fearful  of  making  you  impatient  with  my 
raptures,  but  must  ask  you  to  bear  with  me  a  few  minutes 
longer  in  "this  magnificent  hall  built  by  Henry  VIII. 
which,  from  its  size,  its  height,  its  splendid  and  elaborate 
roof,  its  stained  glass  windows  shedding  a  richly  coloured 
light,  and  its  beautiful  tapestries,  is  the  most  gorgeous 
extant  example  of  the  internal  decoration  of  a  Tudor  pal- 
ace." And  I  may  add  to  what  I  have  above  quoted,  must 
be  seen  to  be  realized.  Bluff  King  Hal  used  it  for  grand 
functions  of  state,  plays,  masques,  and  revels,  and  here 
Catherine  Parr  was  proclaimed  queen.  The  elaborate 
workmanship  and  decoration  of  the  roof  is  beautiful 
beyond  conception,  and  the  great  windows  with  their  gor- 
geous colouring,  and  splendid  tapestries  representing  the 
"Seaven  Deadlie  Synnes"  and  the  ''Historie  of  Abraham," 
make  a  splendid  whole. 

There  are  other  chambers  and  much  more  tapestry  on 
this  floor,  but  I  spare  you,  and  will  only  just  mention  the 
great  astronomical  clock  which,  until  a  few  years  ago,  had 
lain  neglected  in  a  shed  for  half  a  century.  It  was  made 
for  Henry  VIII.  in  1540.  The  face  is  7  feet  10  inches  in 
diameter,  and  beside  showing  the  time,  it  tells  the  month, 
day  of  the  month,  position  of  the  sun  in  the  ecliptic,  phases 
of  the  moon,  time  of  high  water  at  London  bridge,  and  I 
don't  know  what  beside.  I  cannot  linger  more  in  any  of 
the  terraces,  walks,  courts,  or  gardens,  beautiful  though 
they   be,  and  full  of  historical   recollections.     We  know 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        131 

that  in  the  Privy  Garden  "  Henry  VIII.  strolled  in  amorous 
converse  with  Anne  Boleyn,  Jane  Seymour,  Catherine  How- 
ard and  Catherine  Parr  ;  here  Philip  and  Mary  walked  to- 
gether during  their  gloomy  honeymoon,  and  here  Eliza- 
beth had  a  clandestine  meeting  at  night  with  the  Earl  of 
Arran."  Leaving  behind  us  these  charming  scenes,  rich 
in  their  summer  livery  of  brilliant  colouring,  the  stately 
park  with  its  umbrageous  trees,  herds  of  deer,  and  merry 
groups  of  holiday-makers  and  lawn-tennis  players,  we 
passed  through  the  Wilderness  near  the  Maze,  and  out  by 
the  beautiful  Lion  Gates — so  called  from  an  enormous  figure 
of  that  animal  surmounting  each  pier — and  crossed  the  road 
to  Bushy  Park.  This  is  another  royal  demesne  with  an 
area  of  1,100  acres  ;  a  right  of  way  to  the  public  runs  through 
the  park,  and  is  bordered  with  one  of  the  most  superb 
avenues  of  horse-chestnuts  in  the  world,  unfortunately  for 
us  just  past  the  splendour  of  their  blooming,  but  the  car- 
pet of  white  petals  beneath  them  showed  us  what  they 
had  been.  Groups  of  picnicers  and  herds  of  deer  were 
here  just  as  in  the  grounds  we  had  left,  a  stately  mansion, 
too,  at  some  distance  up  the  avenue,  but  the  inexorable 
railway  time-table  warned  us  to  depart,  and  no  public  ve- 
hicles being  admitted  to  help  our  locomotion  in  the  park, 
we  were  obliged  to  leave.  So  in  the  soft,  slow,  gathering 
gloaming  of  a  lovely  summer's  eve  we  returned  to  London, 
passing  the  pretty  towns  and  villages  of  Twickenham, 
Richmond,  Mortlake,  Putney,  etc.,  and  wending  our  way 
to  Gatti's,  in  the  Strand,  dined  there,  and  as  Mr.  Samuel 
Pepys  says,  "So  to  bed,  well  pleased  with  our  day's  enter- 
tainment. " 


IV. 


NOW  we  will  take  another  river  excursion,  this  time 
down  the  stream  ;  not  on  so  genial  a  day  as  our  last, 
for  one  of  Charles  Kingley's  black  nor-easters  was  blow- 
ing, that — 

"  Strong  within  us,  stirs  the  Viking's  blood' ' 

*       *  .    *       ♦       *       *       #       * 
"  And  drives  our  English  hearts  of  oak, 
Seaward  round  the  world11 — 

but  it  was  the  only  day  we  could  arrange  to  go.  So  em- 
barking at  the  stairs  where  Hungerford  bridge  once  stood — 
now  the  Charing  Cross  railway  bridge,  the  river  here  being 
about  three  hundred  yards  wide — we  pass  quickly  with  the 
current  down  along  the  line  of  the  superb  embankment 
with  its  massive  walls,  statues,  and  trees,  passing  through 
Waterloo  bridge  of  nine  arches,  said  by  Canova  to  be  the 
finest  work  of  the  kind  in  the  world,  and  by  Baron  Dupin 
called  "  a  colossal  monument  worthy  of  Sesostris,  and  the 
Caesars,"  thence  past  Temple  Gardens,  Adelphi,  and  Som- 
erset House  terraces,  through  Blackfriars,  and  South wark 
bridges,  when  we  come  to  London  bridge,  the  last  on  the 
river  on  its  downward  course  to  the  sea.  This  noble  bridge 
has  "  five  semi-elliptical  arches,  exceeding  in  extent  of 
span  those  of  any  other  stone  bridge  in  Europe."  The 
two  streams  of  traffic  on  it,  to  either  shore,  are  con- 
tinuous and  immense,  and  perhaps  unique  in  the  world; 
from  it  can  be  seen  the  Tower,  Monu  ment,  St.  Paul's,  Cus- 

132 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        133 

tom-House,  the  many  docks  crowded  with  shipping,  and 
all  the  concomitants  of  the  center  of  the  world's  trade. 
But  the  river  seen  by  night  from,  say  Westminster  bridge, 
how  beautiful  it  looks  with  myriads  of  lights,  stretching  up 
and  down,  reflected  in  its  waters;  but  alas !  too  often  what 
sad  secrets  it  hides  !  Down  still  with  the  last  of  the  ebbing 
tide  we  go  past  docks  and  warehouses,  the  stream  crowded 
with  all  sorts  of  craft  going  up  or  down,  and  widening  as 
it  goes,  at  Woolwich,  to  which  the  line  of  docks  extends, 
its  width  is  four  hundred  and  ninety  yards  ;  at  Gravesend, 
eight  hundred  yards;  and  its  mouth  at  the  Nore-light, 
what  may  be  called  the  estuary  of  the  Thames,  and  Med- 
way,  six  miles. 

Return  we  now  from  this  digression  to  our  destina- 
tion, Greenwich  Hospital.  Landing  on  a  noble  stone 
terrace,  with  the  Ship  Tavern  on  one  hand,  and  on  the 
other  the  Trafalgar,  both  great  resorts  of  Londoners  for 
white-bait  dinners,  and  in  either  case  their  walls  washed 
by,  and  windows  overlooking  the  waters  of  the  river,  you 
have  the  splendid  pile  before  you.  It  occupies  the  site  of 
the  ancient  Royal  Palace  of  Placentia,  in  which  Henry  VIII. 
and  his  children  Queen  Mary,  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  Ed- 
ward VI.  were  born,  and  the  latter  monarch  died.  One 
wing  of  the  present  building  was  erected  from  a  design  of 
Inigo  Jones  in  Charles  II.  reign,  and  it  was  finished,  and 
endowed,  by  the  munificence  of  William  and  Mary  after 
the  great  battle  of  La  Hogue,  for  maintenance  of  seamen 
pensioners  of  the  Royal  Navy.  In  1732  the  forfeited  estates 
of  the  Earl  of  Derwentwater  aided  to  enrich  its  revenues, 
lately  amounting  to  £150,000  per  annum.  Not  counting 
officers,  medical  staff,  and  nurses,  there  were  maintained 


134        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

sixteen  hundred  pensioners,  who  beside  food  and  clothing, 
received  a  weekly  allowance  for  tobacco,  etc.,  of  from  three 
shillings  to  five  shillings  each.  "Of  late  the  authorities, 
deeming  that  the  semi-monastic  sort  of  life  led  by  so  many 
men  was  not  beneficial,  and  that  they  would  be  much  hap- 
pier in  their  country  homes,  have  converted  the  vast  pile 
into  a  Royal  Naval  College  for  officers,  and  Free  School 
for  one  thousand  sons  of  seamen  (and  two  hundred 
daughters,  at  other  schools),  exclusive  of  the  suites  of 
rooms  occupied  by  the  Painted  Hall,  model  rooms,  muse- 
ums, etc.  Twelve  thousand  out-pensioners  are  now  receiv- 
ing at  their  own  homes  sums  varying  from  £3  to  £57  per 
annum.  In  the  center  of  the  court-yard  of  the  boys'  school 
is  a  full-rigged  corvette — sunk  up  to  her  bends  in  the  earth 
— on  board  of  which  a  number  of  lads  sleep  and  mess,  and 
the  regular  routine  of  man-of-war  life  is  fully  carried  out ; 
also,  they  are  exercised  in  reefing  and  furling  sails,  sending 
up  and  down  masts  and  yards,  with  all  the  necessary  work 
of  a  sailor's  life.  How  strange  it  looked  to  see  this  beauti- 
ful ship  up  in  the  town,  among  the  trees  and  houses. 

Crossing  the  quadrangle,  on  three  sides  of  which  the 
noble  structure  is  erected — the  fourth  being  open  to  the 
river — we  ascend  by  a  fine  flight  of  sfceps  into  the  Vestibule 
of  the  Painted  Hall,  another  flight  leading  into  the  Great 
Hall,  formerly  the  Refectory  of  the  Hospital,  the  upper 
chamber  being  appropriated  to  the  officers,  the  lower  to 
the  pensioners  ;  but  as  the  revenue  and  number  of  inmates 
increased,  new  dining-halls  were  provided  in  other  parts  of 
the  building.  The  two  splendid  rooms  above  mentioned 
are  now  devoted  solely  to  portraits  of  eminent  naval  com- 
manders, British  and  foreign,  and  pictures  of  great  naval 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         135 

fights — their  walls  being  literally  covered  with  them.  The 
ceilings  of  both  are  superbly  painted  in  endless  allegorical 
devices  by  Sir  James  Thornhill,  who  married  Hogarth's 
daughter;  in  the  center  of  one  King  William  and  Queen 
Mary,  and  of  the  other  Queen  Anne  and  Prince  George  of 
Denmark.  I  could  not  attempt  to  enumerate  the  portraits 
of  great  commanders,  from  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  downward, 
for  they  are  legion,  but  among  them  I  noted  that  of  Vasco 
de  Gama,  and  our  brave  antagonist,  the  Dutch  Admiral 
Marten  Harpertz  Tromp,  killed  in  the  fight  with  the  fleet 
under  Monk  in  1653.  The  numerous  pictures  of  noted 
actions  and  sea-fights,  from  La  Hogue  to  Trafalgar,  by 
masters  whose  fame  is  as  undying  as  the  victories  they 
celebrate,  ending  with  Turner's  representation  of  that  great 
battle,  and  Benjamin  West's  Death  of  Nelson  in  the  cock- 
pit of  the  ''Victory,"  stir  up,  perhaps  too  much,  the  old  Norse 
blood  within  us.  There  are  many  fine  busts  of  great  cap- 
tains, too,  but  as  I  am  not  writing  a  descriptive  catalogue 
I  pray  you  believe  me  that  it  is  well  named  the  Painted 
Hall,  and  forgive  a  little  pardonable  exultation  with  all 
these  memorials  of  our  country's  glory  around  us.  I  was 
much  interested  in  the  Nelson  relics,  among  which  is  the 
coat  worn  by  him  at  Trafalgar,  with  the  hole  through  the 
epaulette  where  the  fatal  bullet  passed.  Also  numerous 
sad  relic3  of  Sir  John  Franklin's  expedition,  and  an  astro- 
labe presented  by  Queen  Elizabeth  to  Sir  Francis  Drake. 
There  are  many  captured  flags  too,  here,  as  well  as  in  the 
Tower,  and  different  cathedrals,  inclining  one  to  the  belief 
that  we  are  a  bellicose  race,  and  our  temple  of  Janus  not 
often  shut.  Our  guide  was  an  intelligent  old  blue-jacket, 
with  many  medals,   and  no   doubt  recognizing  in  me   a 


136        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

brother  "  salt,"  took  pains  to  show  and  explain  to  us  much 
that  was  worthy  of  notice.  Calling  my  attention  to  the 
beautiful  effect  of  the  light  falling  through  a  coloured  win- 
dow on  one  side  of  the  great  hall,  he  took  us  over  to  exam- 
ine it  more  closely,  when  lo,  no  window  was  there,  it  was 
merely  a  painted  illusion  to  make  it  uniform  with  the  op- 
posite side. 

Like  M.,  you  will  not  probably  care  to  go  with  me 
over  the  Royal  Naval  Museum.  I  own  so  much  sight- 
seeing is  very  fatiguing,  especially  for  the  gentler  sex, 
when  you  have  many  stairs  to  clamber  up  and  rooms  to 
explore,  nor  have  the  numerous  diabolical  inventions  for 
destroying  human  life  any  charms  for  them  ;  fortunately 
there  are  many  and  noble  inventions  here  for  saving  it  also. 
But  I  will  not  trouble  you  with  the  almost  endless  variety 
of  models  for  everything  appertaining  to  "  those  who  go 
down  to  the  sea  in  ships."  Of  men-of-war  of  every  class, 
from  the  earliest  times  to  the  modern  iron  monsters  and 
their  attendants,  there  is  no  end;  and  I  wish  you  could  see 
how  beautifully  built  some  of  them  are,  of  ivory,  bone,  or 
fine  woods.  The  "  Harry-Grace-a-Dieu  "  (that  carried 
Henry  VIII.  to  meet  Francis  I.),  and  the  "Soveraigne 
of  ye  Seas,"  with  many  beautiful  frigates,  interested  me 
more  than  their  modern  successors,  who  are  not  so  much 
ships  as  war  machines. 

We  lunched  at  the  Trafalgar  in  a  noble  room  with  sev- 
eral large  bow-windows  overlooking  the  busy  river,  in  one 
of  which  we  sat,  the  water  but  a  few  feet  below  us,  watch- 
ing the  homeward-bounders  with  their  glad  hearts  going 
up  the  now  brimming  stream,  and  the  outward-bounders, 
doubtless  sad  at  heart,  starting  on  their  long  wanderings 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        137 

over  the  "  weary  waste  of  waters."  This  important  func- 
tion ended  we  strolled  up  into  the  park,  and  as  vehicles 
are  not  allowed  inside,  neither  time  nor  strength  permit- 
ted us  to  ascend  the  hills  on  which  the  famed  observatory- 
is  built  from  which  the  world  counts  its  longitude. 

'Tis  a  noble  domain,  and  like  the  royal  parks  previ- 
ously mentioned,  open  to  the  public  for  picnics,  etc.,  and 
judging  from  the  debris  under  many  of  the  majestic  trees, 
they  are  no  way  slow  in  availing  themselves  of  the  privi- 
lege. Here,  as  in  Hampton  Court  and  Bushy  Park,  dogs 
are  strictly  "  Kapu"  lest  they  should  chase  the  deer. 
With  visions  of  a  pleasant  country  ride  before  us,  for  the 
sun  was  now  shining  brightly,  and  eschewing  rail  or 
river,  we  mounted — as  was  our  wont  in  fair  weather — to 
the  top  of  a  "  bus  "  for  our  return  to  town.  The  streets  of 
Greenwich  seemed  to  us  to  be  of  inordinate  length,  and 
we  wondered  when  the  green  fields  were  to  appear.  A 
sign-board  marked  Old  Kent  Road  soon  disabused 
us  of  our  error,  and  we  were  forced  to  reconcile  ourselves 
to  the  fact  that  it  was  all  London,  from  where  we  left  to 
where  we  alighted  at  Westminister  bridge. 

We  had  been  desirous  (at  least  I  had,  M.  gently  dis- 
senting) of  going  down  to  Sheerness  by  water  to  visit 
our  old  friend  Mrs.  C,  whom  we  had  known  from 
childhood,  and  whose  husband,  a  naval  officer,  had  won 
his  bride  in  Honolulu.  Provokingly  for  me  (M.,  I  ex- 
pect, laughing  in  her  sleeve),  the  day  broke  with  rain 
and  some  fog  ;  the  river  was  out  of  the  question,  and  so 
we  left  by  rail  from  the  Victoria  Station,  down  through 
the  fair  county  of  Kent,  rich  with  waving  fields  of  grain, 
hops,  and  lucerne,    their  varied  colours  of  pale    yellow 


138        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

corn,  green  hops,  and  rich  red  of  the  latter,  making  a  won- 
drously  kaleidoscopic  picture,  divided  into  irregular  pieces 
by  the  trim  hedge-rows. 

The  latter  crop  puzzled  us  both  very  much  ;  we  had 
never  either  of  us  seen  it  before  ;  perhaps  it  is  new.  Soon 
we  arrived  at  Rochester,  a  very  old  town  indeed,  and  one 
of  the  most  ancient  bishoprics  in  England,  being  founded 
in  the  year  604.  This  city,  built  upon  the  right  bank  of 
the  Med  way,  is  nearly  surrounded  by  that  river  on  two 
sides,  and  has  an  ancient  cathedral,  overlooked,  both  it 
and  the  town,  by  a  massive  square  Norman  Keep  erected 
soon  after  the  conquest.  Numerous  Martello  towers  and 
other  fortifications  crown  the  surrounding  hills,  and  form 
part  of  the  lines  of  the  Chatham  defences.  It  was  once  a 
Roman  Station,  being  by  them  called  "  Durobrivse  "  and 
subsequently  by  its  Saxon  occupants  Hrofsceaster  (from 
a  chieftain  of  that  name),  hence  its  present  nomenclature. 
Passing  here  all  too  quickly,  for  I  should  have  enjoyed 
a  stay  very  much,  we  were  shortly  at  our  destination, 
and  found  our  dear  old  friend,  and  almost  second  daugh- 
ter I.  waiting  to  receive  us.  Coming  as  we  did  so  lately 
from  her  former  home  and  those  she  held  so  dear,  and  we 
remembering  so  vividly  happy  days  passed  in  their 
and  her  society,  I  leave  to  your  imagination  the  pleasure 
of  our  meeting. 

Captain  C.  was  away  with  his  ship  in  Egypt,  but  I. 
with  her  two  little  darlings  was  at  home,  and  spared  no 
effort  to  make  us  happy.  Be  sure  we  talked  long  and 
late  into  the  night  of  Honolulu  and  "auld  lang  syne." 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  W.,  too,  came  down  from  Chatham,  learning 
we  were  there,  and  mingled  their  recollections  of  Hono- 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        139 

lulu  with  kind  welcome,  and  pleasure  at  meeting  us. 
How  nice  it  is  to  find  kind  old  friends  among  so  many- 
strangers  ;  it  strengthens  one's  belief  in  the  love  and 
brotherhood  of  our  race.  This  town,  with  its  arsenal,  dock- 
yard and  forts,  is  built  on  the  Isle  of  Sheppey,  at  the  con- 
fluence of  the  Thames  and  Medway.  It  has  not  much  to 
recommend  it  in  the  way  of  beauty,  in  fact  I  fear  naval 
men  are  apt  to  designate  it  as  Sheer-nasty,  but  then  you 
know  sailors  are  privileged  growlers. 

Opposite  our  friend's  residence  (a  pretty  cottage  facing 
the  ocean  with  the  "Buoy  at  the  Nore"  in  the  distance), 
is  a  long  sea  wall  and  esplanade,  extending,  I  should  think, 
two  miles,  to  prevent  the  inroad  of  the  sea  into  the  town, 
but  spite  of  which  sometimes  in  heavy  gales  from  south- 
ward and  eastward  the  lower  streets  are  flooded.  We 
slept  here  with  the  murmur  of  old  ocean  in  our  ears,  and 
next  morning  being  fair,  with  nice  breeze  off  the  water, 
leaving  the  ladies  to  chat  of  old  times  and  friends,  I 
started  for  a  walk  along  the  esplanade  past  barracks,  life- 
boat station  and  a  powerful  casemated  fort,  to  Garrison 
Point,  and  entrance  to  the  dock-yard  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Medway.  Time  did  not  permit  me  to  enter  this  great 
establishment,  covering  more  than  sixty  acres  of  ground, 
so  I  was  fain  to  be  content  with  the  outside  of  things,  and 
the  noble  ships  lying  in  the  river. 

Far  off  to  the  left,  on  a  point  of  land  opposite,  heavy 
guns  were  continually  booming  at  intervals.  This  was 
Shoeburyness,  trial  and  practice  ground  for  great  artillery, 
and  farther  out  the  anchorage  where  the  great  mutiny  (of 
the  fleet)  at  the  Nore  occurred  in  1798.  Sheerness  was 
taken  by  the  Dutch  under  the   brave  Admiral  De  Ruyter 


140        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

(whose  portrait  hangs  among  the  heroes  in  the  Painted 
Hall  at  Greenwich),  and  he  sailed  for  some  distance  up  the 
river,  doing  much  damage — and  in  spite  of  the  forts — in 
1667.  Musing  on  these  things  and  enjoying  my  "  sniff 
of  the  briny,"  time  passed  quickly  away  as  I  sat  on  one 
of  the  many  seats  on  the  esplanade  provided  for  ac- 
commodation of  the  public,  watching  the  promenaders 
and  the  numerous  crafts  passing  up  or  down  the  English 
Channel. 

Leaving  with  regret  our  friends  we  returned  through 
what  Kentish  men  call  the  garden  of  England,  in  the 
bright  glow  of  a  summer's  eve,  back  to  London. 

Are  you  tired  of  ships  and  odor  of  the  sea?  Well, 
now  let  me  tell  of  something  that  in  order  of  time  should 
have  come  earlier.  On  the  first  Wednesday  in  June  (N. 
having  come  up  to  town  from  Plymouth),  we  two  started 
for  what  Lord  Palmerston  was  wont  to  call  "our  Isthmian 
Games" — the  Derby  day  on  Epsom  downs.  This  is  a  trite 
subject,  I  know,  and  yet  I  feel  I  must  tell  you  something 
of  it,  so  full  was  it  of  enjoyment  from  the  lovely  weather 
and  novelty  of  the  scene,  as  well  as  being  one  of  the  sights 
I  had  promised  myself,  if  possible,  to  see.  After  some 
discussion  as  to  mode  of  travel,  whether  by  rail,  (crowded 
trains  leaving  every  ten  minutes),  bus  or  hansom,  we 
decided  in  favour  of  the  latter  as  affording  a  better  view 
of  the  road,  being  more  independent  and  free  from  a 
crowd.  So  we  chartered  a  trap  at  Charing  Cross  for  the 
sum  of  thirty  shillings,  to  be  at  our  disposal  for  the  whole 
day,  starting  about  10  a.  m.  Soon  we  got  into  the  crowd 
of  vehicles  proceeding  like  us  to  Epsom,  a  small  town  in 
Surrey,  some  fourteen  miles  from  London,  celebrated  once 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         141 

for  its  springs  of  sulphate  of  magnesia  or  Epsom  salts, 
but  since  the  institution  of  the  Derby  stakes  of  fifty  sov- 
ereigns each  by  the  Earl  of  that  name,  in  1780,  more  cele- 
brated still  for  the  great  horse-race  run  on  the  adjoining 
down,  the  prize  for  which  sometimes  aggregates  £6,000. 
Long  ere  reaching  Clapham  common  we  made  an  unit  in  the 
triple  stream  of  all  kinds  of  carriages,  two-wheeled  or  four- 
wheeled,  from  the  lordly  drag  of  a  duke  with  its  splendid 
team  and  appointments,  filled  with  members  of  the  upper 
ten  of  both  sexes,  to  the  humble  donkey  cart  of  the  coster- 
monger,  with  his  family  inside,  the  owner  perched  upon 
the  shafts,  pipe  in  mouth,  happy  as  the  noble  occupants 
of  the  drag,  and  possibly  with  the  freedom  and  license 
accorded  to  this  great  English  holiday,  exchanging  friendly 
"chaff"  with  its  noble  driver.  It  was  an  absolute  river, 
if  I  may  be  allowed  the  term,  fourteen  miles  long,  in  three 
separate  currents  running  side  by  side  at  the  rate  of  about 
four  miles  an  hour,  the  horses'  heads  of  one  carriage 
touching  the  rear  of  its  predecessor. 

The  utmost  good  humour  prevailed,  though  jokes  of 
divers  kinds  were  freely  bandied  about,  but  I  am  happy 
to  say  that  the  coarse  rowdyism,  profanity  and  drunken- 
ness said  to  be  so  prevalent  in  former  years  we  exper- 
ienced none  of.  Indeed,  the  solitary  instance  of  intoxica- 
tion that  came  under  notice  to-day  was,  I  regret  to  state, 
that  of  a  woman  at  a  roadside  public  house.  Neither 
going  nor  returning  were  we  pelted  with  missiles  of  any 
kind,  as  was  once  the  custom,  nor  subjected  to  any  annoy- 
ances whatever.  All  seemed  to  be  enjoying  themselves  to 
the  utmost,  and  in  every  town,  village,  hamlet  or  country 
house  the  windows,  fences,  balconies,    and   on  Clapham 


142         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

common  the  railings,  had  their  groups  of  holiday-makers 
watching  the  great  procession.  Shops  and  schools  are 
shut  along  the  line  of  road,  and  even  the  Houses  of  Par-^ 
liament  adjourn  for  that  day.  'Tis  a  glorious  harvest 
for  hosts  and  hostlers  at  the  public  houses  on  the  line  of 
march  and  much  washing  of  horses'  (and  doubtless  driv- 
ers') mouths  seem  necessary  ;  certainly  the  dust  was  great. 
Numerous  vendors  of  Japanese  fans  and  paper  umbrellas, 
at  one  penny  each,  solicit  your  custom,  the  little  wooden 
doll  of  former  years  seeming  to  be  supplanted  by  them. 

About  2  p.  m.  we  got  to  the  pretty  town,  soon  wending 
our  waj7  to  the  famous  downs  and  entering  within  the 
charmed  circle  of  the  "ropes,"  on  the  payment  of  five 
shillings  for  our  carriage.  We  took  up  a  good  position  from 
which  to  see  the  heat  race  and  began  to  look  about  us. 
'Twas  a  glorious,  bright,  sunny  day,  tempered  by  a  pleasant 
breeze,  in  front  of  us  the  winning  post,  grand  stand,  royal 
stand,  and  I  do  not  know  what  other  stands.  Rising 
gently  behind  us  are  the  breezy  downs,  furze-crowned,  and 
now  yellow  with  blossom,  where  gypsy  wagons  and  tents 
were  standing  with  black-haired,  bright-eyed  occupants, 
whose  skill  in  divination  we  did  not  try.  Around  on  all 
sides  booths,  shows,  gorgeous  steam  merry-go-rounds, 
land-and-sea  boats  (horrible  things),  mountebanks,  negro 
minstrels,  jugglers,  aunt  Sallies,  hit-my-legs-but-miss-my- 
pegs,  and  the  usual  long  catalogue  of  devices  to  get  rid  of 
his  cash  that  the  holiday-making  Briton  affects.  Hoarse 
betting-men  are  shouting  something  unintelligible  to  me, 
for  I  am  deeply  interested  in  the  ever-shifting,  wondrous 
crowd.  The  carriages  as  a  rule  (with  their  horses  taken 
out,  of  course),  are  drawn  up  in  lines  as  near  the  winning- 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        143 

post  as  they  can  get.  There  are  literally  thousands  of 
them,  tens  of  thousands  of  horses  and  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands of  human  beings,  crowding  in  dense  masses  along 
the  ropes,  in  seas  of  faces  in  the  stands,  or  perched,  as  we 
were,  on  top  of  their  "crafts."  This  enormous  concourse 
was  said  by  the  morning  papers  of  next  day  to  be  the 
greatest  ever  gathered  on  the  downs,  and  the  number  of 
people  estimated  at  over  two  hundred  thousand  !  No 
doubt  the  beautiful  weather  had  much  to  do  with  its  vast- 
ness.  As  the  great  "  event "  of  the  day  drew  nigh  we 
wandered  across  the  course  which  lies  on  the  flat  of  the 
downs  and  around  the  rising  ground  I  mentioned  before, 
to  see  the  start.  Well,  off  they  went,  passing  us  at  a  great 
pace,  a  compact  body  of,  I  think,  thirteen,  which  we 
watched  nearly  up  to  Tattenham  Corner  ;  and  then,  fancy 
it  if  you  can,  this  ancient  mariner,  all  sail  set,  tearing 
back  at  full  speed  to  regain  the  vantage  of  our  hansom's 
top  and  see  the  finish  !  I  accomplished  it,  too  (much  out 
of  breath,  I  must  confess),  and  saw  the  celebrated  Archer, 
on  "  Melton,  "  win  by  half-a-head,  with  most  consummate 
riding,  and  jockeyship  unequalled.  In  the  royal  stand 
were  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales,  their  two  sons  and 
three  daughters,  the  Duke  of  Edinburgh — much  changed 
since  his  visit  to  Honolulu — Duke  of  Cambridge,  and 
numerous  other  members  of  the  aristocracy,  foreign  and 
British.  After  the  great  race  was  over  the  crowd  began 
sensibly  to  thin,  but  we  stayed  and  saw  Archer  win  two 
more  races,  and  then  got  under  way  for  our  return  trip  to 
town.  The  road  was  not,  as  in  the  morning,  a  dense  pack 
of  vehicles,  but  a  heterogeneous  mass  of  carriages  and 
horsemen,  as   well  as  crowds  of   men  and  boys  on  foot, 


144        OUR  PILQR1MAQE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

good  humour  prevailing  everywhere  apparently,  for,  I 
suppose  like  us,  they  had  enjoyed  their  holiday,  the  beau- 
tiful serenity  of  the  summer  evening  making  it  perfect. 
We  got  back  to  London  about  8  p.  m.,  dined  at  the  Hol- 
born  restaurant,  resplendent  in  gilding  and  marble,  with 
its  excellent  band  discoursing  fine  music,  and  so  finished 
a  most  enjoyable  day  with  a  most  enjoyable  dinner. 

I  feel  that  I  have  not  done  rightly  in  deferring  so  long 
mention  of  visits  from  and  to  some  old-time  friends  whom 
we  met  in  London,  and  whose  continued  kindness  to  us 
we  shall  ever  cherish  among  our  brightest  recollections.  I 
allude  first  to  a  visit  from  Mr.  $.,  formerly  British  Com- 
missioner in  Honolulu,  who  came  up  from  Eastbourne  to 
see  us,  looking  remarkably  well,  and  genial  as  ever.  We 
were  his  guests  at  luncheon  at  the  "  Hotel  Metropole," 
his  sons  also  being  of  the  party.  I  need  hardly  say  what 
a  pleasant  meeting  it  was,  and  how  much  we  talked  of 
old  times,  with  their  pleasant  picnics,  parties,  etc.,  old 
friends,  and  recollections  of  a  score  of  years  ago.  Need- 
less, too,  to  say  that  with  his  catering  our  meal  was 
excellent  in  every  way,  and  when  finished  we  inspected 
some  of  the  rooms  of  this  vast  new  caravansary  making 
up  a  thousand  beds  nightly.  The  drawing-room  (not  yet 
finished,  for  men  were  decorating  the  ceiling)  is  the  most 
splendid  I  ever  saw  in  any  hotel ;  the  principal  lift  is  as 
large  as  a  moderate-sized  room,  elegantly  fitted,  and  un- 
like the  lifts  in  American  hotels,  instead  of  being  sus- 
pended from  above,  is  raised  on  a  huge  polished  piston 
from  beneath  ;  this  is  the  general  plan  with  all  of  them 
here.  In  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  another  old 
friend,  Captain  H.,  formerly  Harbormaster  in  Honolulu, 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         145 

came  and  carried  us  off  by  river  and  rail  to  dine  at  his 
pleasant  house  at  Forest  Hill.  What  an  enjoyable  evening 
we  had  in  the  society  of  our  esteemed  friend,  his  amiable 
wife,  charming  daughter  and  one  son,  with  his  wife  and 
baby.  Oh  !  the  changes  time  makes ;  those  we  knew  as 
children,  now  with  children  of  their  own.  Verily,  we  are 
growing  old,  but  let  us  be  thankful  for  the  many  mercies 
left  to  us  still.  Later  on  we  went  a  merry  party  from 
Forest  Hill  (by  rail)  to  the  Crystal  Palace,  it  being  a 
grand  gala-day — Waterloo — to  see  the  fire- works.  It  was 
certainly  a  most  magnificent  display,  the  great  scene  of 
the  evening  being  an  action  by  ships  on  the  lake,  with  a 
fortified  town  on  its  banks,  so  realistic  in  its  effects  as  to 
seem  almost  to  be  actual.  The  evening  was  very  fine,  and 
consequently  the  crowd  so  vast  that  I  was  fearful  we 
should  lose  each  other  on  our  way  out  ;  but  making  M's 
yellow  feather  our  rallying  point  (as  did  Henry  of 
Navarre's  soldiers  his  white  plume)  we  finally,  after  getting 
mixed  up  with  a  big  school  of  boys,  met  altogether  again, 
said  good-night  with  great  regret,  and  got  into  our  respec- 
tive trains,  they  for  Forest  Hill,  and  we  for  town,  after  a 
most  charming  and  memorable  day. 

Speaking  of  the  above  pyrotechnic  display,  reminds 
me  of  the  illuminations  on  the  night  of  the  6th  of  June, 
in  honor  of  the  Queen's  birthday,  by  all  the  clubs,  houses 
of  the  nobility  and  royal  tradesmen.  Among  the  former 
in  Pall  Mall,  St.  James,  or  other  streets,  it  would  be  hard 
to  say  which  excelled  in  beauty  ;  of  the  aristocratic  dis- 
plays, the  palm  must  be  given  to  the  Duke  of  Portland, 
and   among   the  royal  tradesmen  to  Poole,  tailor  to  the 

Prince  of  Wales ;  the  gas  alone  for  one  night  is  said  to 
10 


146         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 


cost  him  a  thousand  pounds.  When  we  did  not  go  out 
at  night  (having,  as  you  know,  a  good  collection  of 
Hawaiian  photographs)  I  used  to  deliver  what  might 
almost  be  called  a  lecture  on  Hawaii  nei  to  a  very  atten- 
tive and  apparently  much  interested  audience,  never 
tired  of  listening  to  what  I  had  to  tell  them,  and  like 
Oliver  Twist,  often  asking  for  more.  This  surprised  me 
much  as  the  former  did  Mr.  Bumble,  for  I  felt  that  though 
the  pabulum  was  good,  my  mode  of  cookery  and  serving 
up  did  not  do  justice  to  it.  However,  they  seemed  as 
pleased  to  receive  information  as  I  was  to  give  it,  and  it  is 
astonishing  to  me,  in  these  days  of  general  enlightenment, 
how  little  they  know  of  what  they  still  call  the  Sandwich 
Islands,  and  their  surprise  at  our  civilization  and  progress 
is  boundless.  In  the  provinces  it  was  the  same  thing,  and 
my  collection  of  photographs  travelled  by  post  over  much 
of  the  land. 

Of  the  vast  system  of  underground  railways  I  have 
not  spoken,  nor  of  the  great  sub-way  for  pedestrians  to 
the  Inventions,  covered,  sides  and  roof,  with  white  tiles, 
and  brilliantly  lighted.  Both  are  noble  efforts  of  engi- 
neering skill  and  do  much  to  relieve  the  traffic  and  danger 
of  densely  crowded  thoroughfares,  but  to  me  not  pleasant 
travelling,  though  expeditious  and  cheap.  I  prefer  the 
top  of  a  bus,  fresh  air  and  sunshine,  to  a  big  burrow  and 
gaslight. 

Having  detained  you  so  long  in  and  about  London,  pro- 
ceed we  now  on  our  "  pilgrimage,"  leaving  the  Padding  Sta- 
tion by  the  "Flying  Dutchman"  for  Bristol,  passing 
through  exquisite  scenery  and  arriving  at  our  destination 
in  two  hours  fifty-five  minutes.     On  the  way  down  one  of 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         147 


our  carriage-doors  flew  open,  not  having  been  properly 
secured,  and  I  was  forced  to  stop  the  train,  now  going 
between  sixty  and  seventy  miles  an  hour.  An  official 
soon  came  and  did  what  he  could,  and  during  an  eight 
minutes'  stay  at  Swindon  (the  only  one  on  the  route),  car- 
penters put  the  split  and  broken  door  to  rights.  After  a 
stroll  about  the  interesting  old  city  we  went  tired  to  bed. 
Next  day  being  Sunday  we  rested  here,  attended  matins 
with  communion  at  the  beautiful  church  of  St.  Mary  Red- 
cliffe.  What  a  pleasure  it  was,  in  so  grand  a  structure, 
with  all  the  adjuncts  of  fine  music,  prayer  and  praise,  and 
how  soothing  to  the  souls  of  the  wanderers.  During  the 
evening  we  strolled  into  the  very  ancient  Temple  Church 
and  for  the  first  time  witnessed  the  celebration  of  the 
Eucharist  at  evening  prayer.  Monday  we  proceeded  on 
our  journey  through  Gloucestershire  to  New  Passage,  at 
the  estuary  of  the  Severn,  into  which  the  romantic  Wye 
falls  a  few  miles  above.  The  crossing  here  was  anything 
but  pleasant,  as  it  was  nearly  low  water,  and  the  rise  and 
fall  of  tide  among  the  greatest  in  the  world.  We  had  to 
descend  long  zig-zag  flights  of  steps  to  gain  the  water's 
level  and  the  waiting  steamboat.  About  ten  minutes  took 
us  across  and  the  operation  had  to  be  reversed,  this  time 
ascending  to  the  waiting  train.  This  great  delay  and 
inconvenience  has  since  been  surmounted  by  a  tunnel 
some  five  miles  long  underneath  the  bed  of  the  river. 

Well,  here  we  are  now  in  my  own  dear  county  of  Mon- 
mouth—" Gerddi  Gwent,"  or  the  Garden  of  Wales,  as  old 
inhabitants  delight  to  call  it,  now  Welsh  no  more,  hav- 
ing been  included  in  the  English  Circuit  since  1536.  Can 
you  imagine  my  feelings?    I  could  not  analyze  them,  but 


148         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

I  know  that  rushing  through  the  lovely  summer  fields,  the 
scent  of  new-mown  hay  in  the  air,  the  Bristol  channel  with 
numerous  sails  of  ships  glinting  in  the  sun,  and  a  bright 
blue  sky  above,  it  was  very  fair  to  look  upon.  Crossing  a 
railway  bridge  over  the  Usk  at  Newport  (a  flourishing 
town,  with  a  large  shipping  trade  in  coal  and  iron,  and 
fine  docks),  a  grim  old  castle  built  by  Robert  Fitzroy,  son 
of  Henry  I.,  to  command  the  river,  is  on  our  right  and  to 
our  left  a  fine  stone  bridge  of  six  arches.  This  place  was 
the  scene  of  the  Chartist  riots  in  the  rising  of  1839,  and 
the  destruction  of  this  bridge  and  consequent  non-arrival 
or  delay  of  the  Welsh  mails  was  to  have  been  the  signal 
of  success  to  their  conspirator  friends  in  other  parts  of 
the  kingdom,  there  being  no  telegraph  lines  in  those  days. 
Passing  the  castle — now,  oh  sad  irony  of  fate,  a  brewery! — 
we  enter  a  commodious  station  and  change  carriages  for 
Pontypool. 

Steaming  thence  up  the  valley  of  the  "Avon  Llwyd,"  or 
grey  river,  which  here  falls  into  the  Usk,  with  Caerleon, 
the  idyllic  city  of  King  Arthur,  on  one  side  of  you,  and 
on  the  other  "  Twyn  Barlwm,"  or  the  Tump  of  Judgment, 
we  are  getting  deeper  and  deeper  among  the  everlasting 
hills  filled  with  legend,  story  and  tradition. 

Caerleon-on-Usk,  the  "  Isca  Silurium  "  of  the  Romans, 
was  their  capital  of  Britannia  Secunda,  or  Wales,  and 
doubtless  a  city  of  great  importance.  Giraldus  Cambren- 
sis  speaks  of  its  immense  palaces  with  gilded  roofs,  and 
it  was  the  seat  of  an  Archbishopric  prior  to  A.  D.  519. 
The  rather  mythical  King  Arthur  is  said  to  have  been 
crowned    here  in  517,   and    the  city  was    burned   and 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD   WORLD.        149 

destroyed  by  Henry  II.  in  1171,  on  defeat  of  the  Welsh 
prince  Jorweth. 

Numerous  Roman  remains  have  been  discovered  here, 
and  in  a  field  which  I  have  visited  when  a  boy,  is  the 
remains  of  an  amphitheater,  well  defined,  called  the 
"  Round  Table,"  and  by  tradition  attributed  to  King 
Arthur,  whose  capital  city  this  was.  Doubtless  it  was  of 
great  importance  in  the  times  of  the  ancient  Britons, 
Romans  and  Plantagenet  kings.  On  "  Twyn  Barlwm," 
which  looks  like  a  great  mound  perched  on  a  mountain- 
top  (evidently  an  ancient  stronghold),  and  dominates  all 
the  land  around,  "  our  skin-clad  forefathers,  under 
Caractacus,  opposed  the  Romans,  and  there  the  men  of 
'  Gwent '  fought  against  the  invasions  of  Saxons,  Danes 
and  mail-clad  Normans  "  successfully,  as  their  descendants 
proudly  claim,  and  still  remain  unconquered  to  this  day. 
Speeding  on  past  tin-works,  steel-works  and  iron-works, 
how  familiar  and  yet  how  strange  it  seems  to  us.  The 
grand  old  hills  and  splendid  woods  are  perhaps  looking 
nobler  than  ever,  but  the  ramifications  of  the  iron  road, 
with  snorting,  screeching,  black  monsters  hurrying  along, 
bearing  cargoes  of  coal,  tin,  iron  or  steel,  by  no  means  add 
to  the  beauty  of  the  landscape.  In  my  boyhood  the  sole 
means  of  transport  for  these  commodities  from  the  place 
of  their  production  to  the  port  of  Newport,  was  by  a  canal 
with  many  locks,  along  the  towing-path  of  which,  through 
charming  scenery,  I  have  often  walked  from  Pontypool  on 
Sunday  mornings,  arriving  at  the  former  place  in  time  for 
service  at  the  beautiful  old  church  of  St.  Mary,  on  Stowe 
Hill,  and  back  again  in  the  gloaming,  doing  the  eighteen  or 
twenty  miles   with   perfect  ease  and  enjoyment.     In  this 


150        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

churchyard,  from  which  there  is  a  glorious  view  over 
town,  country  and  Bristol  channel,  I  remember  a  quaint 
epitaph  which  I  transcribe  for  your  edification: 

"  34  years  i  was  a  maid, 

9  months  6  days  a  weded  wife, 
two  hours  i  was  a  mother, 
and  then  i  lost  my  life.  " 

In  spite  of  this  digression  we  were  soon  at  Pontypool> 
the  place  of  my  birth  and  childhood's  home,  more  familiar 
and  yet  stranger  still.  The  old  town,  deep  in  a  hollow 
among  the  surrounding  hills  and  glorious  woods,  which 
are  bold  and  beautiful  as  ever,  does  not  show  so  much 
change  or  improvement  in  itself  as  I  could  have  anticipated 
in  these  many  years,  but  railway  stations,  bridges  crossing 
the  streets,  and  the  well  known  canal  filled  in  for  the  iron 
track  to  run  upon,  were  changes  indeed.  Add  to  this,  un- 
familiar names  and  faces  where  once  we  knew  every  one* 
and  you  can  imagine  a  strain  of  sadness  in  our  thoughts  ; 
even  my  niece's  son,  who  met  us  at  the  station,  was  a 
stranger,  but  recognized  us  from  our  photographs.  A  few 
minutes'  walk  and  M.  and  her  dear  sister  were  in  each 
other's  arms.  Time  had  wrought  great  changes,  but  though 
the  hair  was  silvery  white,  the  tall  form,  azure  eyes  and 
brilliant  pink-and-white  complexion  as  of  youth  were  still 
there,  softened  and  subdued  by  the  trials  of  the  world.  I 
spare  you  our  meeting  or  any  attempt  at  defining  our  feel- 
ings, only  asking  you  to  believe  that  we  were  very  thank- 
ful that  in  God's  providence  we  had  been  allowed  to  meet 
once  more.  Rain  coming  on,  we  had  a  fire  lighted  (though 
in  the  middle  of  summer),  for  we  tropic  birds  felt  the 
damp  and  coolness  of  the  evening  air,  and  round  its  cheery 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         151 


blaze  talked  long  into  the  night  of  the  events  and  recollec- 
tions of  a  generation  of  men.  Next  day  broke  raining 
still,  and  we  thought  with  sad  forebodings  of  the  traditional 
wetness  of  the  place,  lying  as  it  does  so  low  among  the 
surrounding  and  in  some  places  densely  wooded  hills. 
Wrote  some  letters,  and  when  to  my  delight  the  sun  came 
out,  I  strolled  into  the  well-remembered  streets,  leaving 
the  sisters  to  the  enjoyment  of  each  other's  society.  Neither 
streets  nor  houses  were  as  imposing  as  I  once  fancied  they 
were ;  indeed,  I  fear  I  must  confess  to  a  feeling  of  disap- 
pointment so  far  as  they  went,  but  oh,  the  noble  woods 
and  grand  old  hills  made  up  for  all.  I  visited  our  old 
home — the  tenant  in  possession,  a  stranger  to  me,  received 
me  very  kindly  on  learning  who  I  was — and  sat  in  my 
dear  mother's  accustomed  place  by  the  parlour  fireside 
and  thought  *****,  M*  kindly  leaving  me  in 
sole  possession  for  awhile.  Next  day  bright  and  charm- 
ing— we  had  no  more  bad  weather — and  our  arrival  having 
been  bruited  abroad,  many  old  friends  of  both  our  families 
came  to  see  us  ;  but  alas  !  among  them  was  not  one  indi- 
vidual companion  of  my  school-boy  days.  Some  were 
slumbering  beneath  the  yew  trees  in  the  quiet  old  church- 
yard on  the  hill,  some  prospering  in  other  parts  of  the 
kingdom,  and  some  by  "the  long  wash  of  Australasian 
seas."  This  town,  once  quite  important  as  the  nucleus  of 
many  large  iron  works  and  the  market  town  for  the  dis- 
trict, has  since  the  advent  of  the  iron  horse  among 
the  surrounding  hills  and  valleys,  lost  much  of  its  im- 
portance. I  remember  well  when  on  market  days  great 
crowds  of  colliers,  miners,  iron  and  tin-plate  workers, 
with  their  wives  and  families,  used  to  throng  into  the  town 


152        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

to  purchase  their  week's  supply,  and  ever  reckless  with 
their  money — for  they  got  high  wages,  nor  thought  of 
saving — bought  all  the  first  fruits  and  delicacies  of  the 
season,  ere  those  a  little  higher  in  the  social  scale  could 
think  of  doing  so.  The  farmers'  wives  and  daughters  then 
brought  their  produce  to  market,  the  former  generally  in 
handy,  light  carts,  with  a  good  stepping  horse;  some  of  the 
latter  riding  on  fine  nags  (I  have  one  in  particular  in  my 
mind's  eye),  with  baskets  of,  oh  such  butter!  on  their  laps. 
Almost  as  much  Welsh  as  English  was  then  spoken  on 
market  days,  and  many  of  the  country  women  wore  the 
tall  Welsh  hat  and  flannel  bedgown.  Now  railways  bring 
the  produce,  the  costume  has  entirely  disappeared,  and  I 
never  heard  the  Welsh  language  once  in  the  town;  folks 
speak  with  almost  a  London  accent,  and  dress  in  London 
style.  Whether  these  may  be  considered  improvements  or 
not,  I  am  hardly  prepared  to  say;  but  certainly  in  the 
almost  total  absence  of  the  disgusting  drunkenness  and 
debauchery  of  those  days,  and  the  utter  abolition  of  pugil- 
istic encounters,  dog-fights,  and  other  degrading  exhibi- 
tions that  took  place  every  Saturday  (market  day)  in  an 
open  space  called  the  Blue  Boar  Field,  there  is  great  cause 
for  congratulation,  and  much  to  be  thankful  for.  Among 
the  "hills,"  where  most  of  the  coal  and  iron  mines  and 
works,  are  situated,  were  to  be  found  many  desperate  char- 
acters, and  the  "  strikes,"  or  labour  riots  of  those  days  were 
brutal  in  the  extreme.  Bands  of  men,  led  by  some  villain- 
ous desperado,  more  bold  and  savage  than  his  comrades, 
but  like  them  with  blackened  face,  and  clad  in  a  black 
bull's  hide,  the  horns  upon  his  head,  used  to  traverse  the 
hills  at  such  times — calling  themselves  Scotch  Cattle — to 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        153 

overawe  and  intimidate  the  steady  and  industrious  work- 
man, their  atrocities  sometimes  culminating  in  the  death 
of  their  appointed  victim;  and  on  one  occasion,  not  being 
able  to  find  the  man  of  whom  they  were  in  search,  the  fiend 
to  whom  the  lot  fell  actually  shot  his  unoffending  wife 
through  her  own  cottage  window.  The  brutal  culprit 
escaped  to  America,  but  an  accomplice  suffered  the  full 
penalty  of  the  law,  and  I  am  thankful  to  say  that  now  the 
honest  artisan  is  as  safe  as  if  in  Honolulu,  no  little  boast. 
The  leaders  were  always  strangers  from  the  Black  Country, 
and  a  curious  anomaly  in  their  proceedings  was  that  on 
entering  a  house  and  breaking  or  destroying  all  the  furni- 
ture, if  they  found  the  table  with  bread  upon  it,  both  were 
left  untouched  from  a  sacrilegious  dread. 

On  the  first  day  of  July — after  receipt  of  letters  of  con- 
gratulation from  some  of  our  children — perfect  in  its  love- 
liness as  a  summer  morning, .we  two  set  out  for  the  closing 
act  of  our  pilgrimage.  Crossing  the  ancient  stone  bridge 
over  the  "Avon  Llwyd,"  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  past  the 
Shepherd's  field,  and  the  George  well,  we  began  to  ascend 
to  the  old  parish  church  of  "  Trevethrie,"  a  distance  of 
about  a  mile  and  a  half,  through  leafy  woods  and  meadows 
almost  unapproachable  in  beauty.  Soon  we  come  to  the 
sequestered  cottage  on  the  skirt  of  the  woods,  overhung 
with  ancient  oaks  and  elms,  where  M.  spent  most  of  her 
girlhood's  years;  to  the  left  lies  the  dingle  that  in  spring 
and  early  summer  is  carpeted  with  blue-bells;  there  is  the 
well-remembered  holly-bush  which  every  season  in  my 
boyhood's  days  bore  a  thrush's  nest;  a  little  further  up  a 
noble  beech  without  a  branch  for  lorty  feet,  looking  like 
u  some  tall  Admiral,"  with  a  clearly  bored  hole  in  it  a  little 


154        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

below  its  umbrageous  crown,  and  which  was  always  ten- 
anted by  a  nest  of  wood-peckers  year  after  year,  and 
innocuously  pelted  with  stones  by  the  boys  of  that  genera- 
tion, as,  judging  from  the  marks  on  its  bark,  it  is  by  those 
of  this.  Round  the  turn  in  the  old  road  we  go  under  the 
overhanging  trees,  and  past  the  Quaker's  burying  ground, 
silent  and  unadorned  with  grave-stones  or  monuments,  a 
fitting  resting-place  for  these  worthy,  unobtrusive  people. 
Ascending  still,  and  emerging  from  the  woods  into  the  brill- 
iant sunshine,  we  come  to  E's  modest,  old-time  looking 
cottage.  A  little  maiden  is  waiting  in  the  road  with  a  beau- 
tiful "  posey"  of  flowers  for  M.,  from  her  sister,  whom  she 
says  has  walked  on  ;  we  soon  overtake  her,  when  joining 
us  in  the  carriage  we  proceed  between  newly  mown  fields 
— under  the  dry  stone-wall  of  this  one  on  our  left  I  have 
often  found  in  profusion  the  loveliest  snowdrops — just  put- 
ting on  their  livery  of  tender  green  "  lattermath."  A  short 
distance  further  brings  us  to  the  lych-gate  of  the  old  church 
surmounting  the  hill,  where  C.  W.,  M's  dear  friend  and 
bridesmaid  of  former  years,  is  waiting  to  receive  us,  accom- 
panied by  a  buxom  matron  bearing  a  big  key  and  another 
"posey."  Entering  the  church  by  the  west  door  we  pass 
the  font  where  our  eldest  daughter  was  christened,  up  the 
central  aisle  with  long  bars  of  gorgeous  colouring  from  the 
painted  windows  chequering  the  pavement,  and  gain  the 
altar-steps  and  rail,  where  we  two  knelt  together  forty  years 
ago  to-day  when  we  were  wed. 

Our  friends  silently  and  considerately  withdrew,  leaving 
us  alone  for  awhile  to  the  flooding  memories  of  long,  long, 
years;  and  I  trust  I  may  add  sincerely,  thankfulness,  for 
the  many  mercies  vouchsafed  to  us  during  their  passage. 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         155 

After  a  little  lapse  of  time,  during  which  I  put  another 
ring  on  M's  finger,  we  were  joined  again  by  our  compan- 
ions, when  we  looked  with  deepest  interest  over  the  well- 
remembered  old  edifice,  sat  in  the  pew  in  which  my  parents 
used  to  worship,  and  then  emerging  by  a  side  door  are 
under  the  far-spreading  branches  of  a  patriarchal  yew, 
beneath  whose  shade  lie  father,  mother,  brother,  and  sisters, 
with  many  more  of  our  kith  and  kin,  and  we  feel  thankful 
that  in  God's  mercy  we  have  been  permitted  to  visit  this 
much-loved  spot  once  more,  and  that  "  Our  Pilgrimage  "  is 
accomplished. 

This  ancient  building  is  the  parish  church  of  Trevethie, 
or  Tref-y-ddin,  and  from  its  square  tower  and  some  lancet- 
windows,  probably  dates  back  to  the  thirteenth  century  ;  in 
my  boyhood  days  the  carved  oaken  trestle-work  of  its  vaulted 
roof  was  scrupulously  whitewashed  over  by  former  puri- 
tanical worthies  who  favoured  that  style  of  adornment. 
Of  late  years  it  has  been  restored,  the  wood  retains  its  own 
colour  and  the  bosses  are  gilded,  greatly,  as  I  think,  to  its 
improvement.  It  has  an  excellent  new  organ,  a  good 
choir  of  both  sexes  (crowded  into  a  corner  of  the  tran- 
sept), and  an  eloquent  evangelical  rector ;  but  oh  !  how  I 
did  wish  for  a  little  more  warmth  and  ornateness  in  the 
services  and  rendering  of  our  beautiful  liturgy.  We  went 
from  here  to  the  house  of  a  very  old  friend,  Mrs.  D.,  at 
Glenside,  where  we  spent  the  remainder  of  the  day,  and 
dined  among  a  circle  of  family  connections  very  dear  to  us, 
and  who  seemed  to  endeavour  each  to  outvie  the  other  in 
kindness  to  the  pilgrims,  and  by  them  I  trust  never  to  be 
forgotten. 

I  feel   that  I  must  tell  you  of  some  of  our  excur- 


156        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

sions  in  this  fair  county  of  which  we  Monmouthshire 
men  are  so  proud,  and  justly,  as  I  think,  with  its  beauti- 
ful diversity  of  mountain,  river,  woods,  mead  and  dale, 
and  so  will  take  them  in  the  order  I  find  them  in  my  note- 
book. 

Our  kind  friends  from  Glenside  came  one  day  and 
took  us,  all  three,  off  for  an  excursion  by  rail  to  the  hills, 
via  Abersychan,  Talywain  and  Varteg  to  Blaenavon, 
amid  bleak,  desolate-looking  mountains,  covered  sparsely 
with  heather,  but  rich  in  coal,  iron  and  lime,  with  their 
respective  works  vomiting  smoke  and  flame  from  their 
tall  chimneys  and  furnaces  continuously.  In  my  youth 
these  places  were  difficult  of  access,  and  well  do  I  remem- 
ber once  crossing  the  Blaenavon  mountain  on  foot  in  a 
snow  storm,  and  being  fearful  lest  the  track  should  be 
obliterated  and  I  lose  my  way  in  its  wide  desolation, 
no  human  habitation  for  miles  and  only  meeting  one 
person  on  the  great  bare  waste.  Now  two  lines  of  railway 
carry  the  wealth  of  the  hills  to  the  sea,  and  the  villages  of 
those  days  are  thriving  towns.  Many  fearful  tales  are  told 
of  these  wild  hills,  and  of  unwary  travellers  lost  in  fog  and 
tempest,  or  led  to  their  doom  by  the  "grey  woman," 
Shoey  White,  and  of  wicked  tricks  by  elves,  the  Welsh, 
as  you  know,  being  a  very  superstitious  folk,  full  of  ghost 
and  fairy  (Bendy  th-y-mamma)  stories.  Of  the  latter  they 
always  speak  well,  and  their  name  signifies  "  Blessing  of 
the  Mother."  Speeding  on  we  soon  leave  the  bleak  moun- 
tains behind  us  and  descend  by  an  awful  incline  down  into 
the  beautiful  vale  of  Clydach — our  route  lying  along  the 
edge  of  almost  a  precipice — said  to  be  the  spot  that  in- 
spired Shakespeare's  "  Midsummer  Night's  Dream."    Its 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        157 

sides  are  wooded  down  to  the  meadows  below  us  where 
the  clear  but  turbulent  Clydach  is  hurrying  along  to 
lose  itself  in  the  Usk,  that  is  here  so  peacefully  gliding 
between  fields  rich  in  standing  corn,  or  just  shorn  of  their 
crop  of  hay,  downward  to  the  sea,  through  thorp  and  town. 
Crossing  the  latter  river  by  a  bridge  of  fifteen  arches, 
we  enter  the  pretty,  picturesquely-situated  town  of  Aber- 
gavenny— the  Roman  Gobannium — and  proceed  to  the 
castle  erected  by  "Hammeline  de  Bohun,"  soon  after  the 
Norman  conquest,  to  keep  the  Welsh  in  check.  It  after- 
wards became  the  stronghold  of  the  Neville's,  who  take 
their  title  from  it.  When  I  knew  the  castle  formerly  it 
was  open  to  the  public,  with  fine  walks  around  the  walls 
under  shady  trees,  and  benches  arranged  so  as  to  afford 
charming  views  of  the  lovely  vale  of  the  Usk,  the 
mountain  range  of  the  Blorenge  extending  in  one  contin- 
uous line  along  the  Golden  Valley  from  the  "  Skivrid,"  or 
Holy  Mountain,  to  the  Sugar  Loaf,  and  terminating  ab- 
ruptly near  the  town.  Now  you  pay  a  small  entrance  fee. 
The  smooth  sward  of  the  court-yard  is  laid  out  in  lawn- 
tennis,  or  croquet  ground  ;  the  great  hall  is  floored  over 
for  dancing,  picnics  or  tea  parties  ;  rustic  stairs  are  built 
to  ascend  to  different  parts  of  the  ancient  edifice,  and  sen- 
timentalism  is  subjected  to  utilitarianism.  With  a  feeling 
of  some  disappointment  at  the  change  on  my  part,  we 
next  went  to  the  Abbey  Church  of  St.  Mary's,  formerly  a 
fine  cruciform  edifice,  but  renovated  and  improved,  save 
the  mark  !  since  my  youth.  We  found  a  boy-school  was 
being  held  in  among  numerous  fine  old  tombs  of  Crusad- 
ers, knights  and  dames,  over  which,  no  doubt,  from  their 
appearance,  the  youngsters  frolic ;  and  lying  on  a  stone 


158        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

bench  was  a  huge  wooden  figure  of  a  bearded  man  or 
saint,  apparently  forming  part  of  or  growing  out  a  tree, 
and  said  to  be  called  a  "  Jesse  Tree,"  this  being  one  of 
three  known  to  exist  in  England.  What  it  really  indi- 
cates I  could  not  discover,  perhaps  the  root  of  Jesse.  The 
renovated  part  of  the  sacred  edifice  I  had  no  patience  for, 
with  its  boarded  floor,  stiff,  ugly  benches  and  pews,  and 
general  aspect  of  paint  and  newness.  Thank  goodness,, 
they  could  not  change  the  outward  beauty  of  wall  or 
tower.  In  the  evening  we  returned  by  way  of  Penper- 
grom  and  Nantyderry  to  Pontypool,  after  a  most  enjoyable 
day. 

Another  charming  excursion  with  our  kind  friends 
and  some  other  members  of  their  family,  was  to  the 
last  named  place  (Nantyderry,  I  mean)  by  rail,  where 
Mrs.  B.  met  us  with  her  pony  carriage,  taking  the  elder 
ladies  of  our  party  up,  while  the  male  members  and 
juniors  of  the  softer  sex  proceeded  on  foot  toward  the 
farm-house  where  our  kind  hosts  were  spending  their 
summer  holiday.  The  day  was  as  brilliant  and  warm  as 
a  day  in  our  sunny  isles,  and  we  found  the  shade  of  the 
tall  trees  and  hazel  bushes,  that  bordered  the  deep  narrow 
county  lane  through  which  we  had  proceeded,  very  grate- 
ful. The  hedges  and  banks  were  full  of  honeysuckles, 
foxgloves  and  other  summer  flowers,  as  well  as  being 
garnished  nearly  all  their  length  by  bunches  of  fragrant 
hay  stolen  from  the  laden  wains  in  their  passage  from  the 
fields.  A  couple  of  miles  brought  us  to  our  destination 
on  the  banks  of  the  pellucid  Usk,  where  we  were  to  picnic, 
and  I  to  enjoy  a  few  hours'  fly-fishing,  as  I  had  frequently 
done  in  the  same  place  in  my  youth,  and  on  whose  quickly 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        159 

gliding  waters  I  have  so  often  seen  the  degenerate  descend- 
ant of  his  painted  British  forefather  paddling  the  frail  coracle 
his  sires  used.  Our  host  had  kindly  provided  me  with  a 
license,  rod  and  line  (the  rivers  now  are  carefully  pre- 
served, in  consequence  of  the  wilful  and  wasteful  destruction 
of  salmon-fry  and  fish  out  of  season  in  former  years),  but 
as  we  were  nearing  the  river,  on  meeting  several  gentlemen 
with  attendants  bearing  landing  net  and  gaff  returning 
from  salmon  fishing,  the  conviction  forced  itself  upon  me 
there  would  be  no  sport  to-day.  Arrived  at  the  lovely 
river  running  here  swiftly  down  through  green  meadows, 
and  by  shady  trees,  the  crystal  beauty  of  its  waters  and 
the  bright  sky  above  told  how  futile  our  efforts  wrould  be. 
However,  the  spirit  of  old  Isaak  was  strong  within  me,  and 
I  could  not  forego  an  effort  to  lure  the  speckled  beauties, 
but  to  no  effect,  the  only  captives  being  a  few  salmon-fry 
called  here  salmon-pink — being  spotted  like  and  scarcely 
distinguishable  from  trout — and  which  the  law  requires 
you  carefully  to  remove  from  your  hook  and  return  to  the 
water.  We  lunched  under  the  shade  of  some  bushes  by 
the  stream,  the  ladies  adjourning  thence  to  the  quaint  old 
farm-house  tenanted  by  our  friends,  where,  after  being 
convinced  of  the  futility  of  whipping  the  water  any 
longer,  we  men-folk  joined  them,  and  had  a  most  refresh- 
ing cup  of  tea,  with  all  the  delicacies  of  a  country  house, 
under  the  spreading  branches  of  orchard  trees,  laden  with 
fast  ripening  fruit.  In  the  cool  evening  we  returned  in 
the  same  order  that  we  went,  having  had  an  "  awfully 
jolly  day,"  if  that  phrase  means  thorough  enjoyment. 
You  know  how  ardent  a  disciple  of  "Isaak  Walton's"  I 
was  in  my  youth,  and  will  not  be  surprised  to  learn  that 


160         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

I  was  very  desirous  to  see.  again  the  beautiful  Glyn-ponds, 
two  splendid  sheets  of  water  lying  deep  between  a  bare 
mountain  on  one  side  and  high  wooded  hills  on  the  other, 
once  plentifully  stocked  with  fish,  and  by  whose  margins 
I  had  spent  many  happy  summer  days,  and  on  their 
frozen  bosoms  winter  ones.  They  were  artificial  lakes 
made  by  damming  across  the  deep  valley  catching  the 
mountain  streams,  and  used  to  supply  power  for  adjacent 
iron-works.  Each  was  more  than  a  mile  long,  in  some 
places  one-third  of  a  mile  broad,  very  deep,  and  filled 
with  clear  cold  water,  the  surrounding  scenery  being 
wild  and  beautiful  in  the  extreme.  Off  we  set  with  C, 
W.  and  E.,  enjoying  the  fresh,  bright  summer  day,  and 
recognizing  each  familiar  object  as  it  came  in  view ;  on 
our  left  is  the  bold  outline  of  heath-covered  u  Twyn 
Calch,"  and  opposite  the  wooded  slopes  of  "Cwm  Glyn;" 
up  the  hill,  past  the  well-remembered  beech-tree,  under 
whose  huge  branches  I  once  sheltered  long  years  ago  in 
an  awful  thunderstorm — an  idea  prevailing  with  us  that 
you  were  safe  from  the  electric  fluid  if  beneath  a  beech — 
when,  topping  the  hill,  I  missed  the  lovely  sheet  of  water, 
and  the  sunshine  dancing  on  its  surface  in  the  rippling 
breeze.  "  Why,"  I  exclaimed,  "  where  is  the  pond  ?  " 
"  Did  you  not  know  the  ponds  have  both  been  drained  !" 
The  beauty  of  the  landscape  was  gone  for  me,  the  sunlight 
out  of  the  picture.  Sure  enough,  the  dams  were  broken 
down,  the  forge-hammer  silent,  the  works  a  ruin,  and  the 
devouring  iron  horse  on  his  iron  track  careering  triumph- 
antly along  in  what  had  once  been  the  depths  of  my 
beautiful  Glyn-ponds,  a  little  water  with  sedge  and 
rushes  alone  marking  their  deeper  parts.     Wild  stories  of 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        161 

violence,  and  sad  ones  of  accident,  are  connected  with 
these  lakes,  which  I  spare  you.  And  so  we  continue  our 
way  on  through  the  wildly  romantic  valley,  becoming 
more  wooded  as  we  advance,  when,  after  passing  a  gypsy 
encampment  a  sudden  turn  in  the  road  brings  us  to  the 
summit  of  a  long  steep  hill,  at  the  foot  of  which  lies  the 
village  of  Crumlin,  a  canal,  and  a  brawling  river,  deep 
in  the  vale,  and  across  it  the  famous  railway  viaduct  we 
had  come  here  to  see,  stretching  from  side  to  side  above  it 
all.  "Beautiful?  You  are  right,  it  is  beautiful.  From 
east  to  west,  high  above  the  lovely  valley,  high  above  the 
nestling  houses  and  glittering  waters,  stretches  the  lace- 
like viaduct,  light  and  delicate  as  if  it  were  the  work  of 
the  fairy  Ariel."  *•***.*  "So  slight  does 
it  appear,  that  even  now,  though  it  has  stood  the  test  of 
twenty-nine  years,  many  persons  are  still  too  timorous  to 
cross  it,"  that  is,  on  the  foot-road  under  the  rails.  It^is 
built  entirely  of  iron,  on  the  lattice  work  or  trestle 
principle,  and  carried  across  the  valley  on  eight  spidery- 
looking  piers  that  support  the  superstructure.  Its  length, 
including  abutments,  is  1,658  feet,  and  its  heighth  208  feet 
above  the  foundation,  and  the  view  from  it  down  the 
luxuriantly  wooded  slopes  must  be  lovely.  Lingering  long 
as  time  would  permit,  we  at  length  returned,  though  loath 
to  leave  so  much  beauty,  by  the  road  we  came,  which  in 
its  wilder  parts  is  full  of  ghost  or  fairy  story.  Shall  I  tell 
you,  to  beguile  our  homeward  drive,  of  the  renowned 
hob-goblin  "Gwka  'r  Trwyn,"  who  used  kindly  to  assist 
the  farm  maidens  in  their  labours,  doing  their  work  while 
they  slept  ?  Some  of  them  by  their  sluttishness  displeased 
him  at  last,  so  one  day  on  a  girl  letting  fall  a  ball  of  yarn 


n 


162        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

over  the  hill  whose  base  was  then  washed  by  the  Glyn- 
ponds,  the  "Gwka  "  said:  "  I'm  going  in  this  ball,  and  I'll 
go  to  the  '  Trwyn,'  and  I'll  never  come  back."  Off  the 
ball  went,  down  the  hill,  across  the  valley,  up  the  opposite 
side,  over  "  Mynydd  Maen,"  through  heath  and  whimberry 
bushes  trundling  along,  and,  sure  enough,  has  never  come 
back  again. 

One  lovely  evening  when  the  sun  was  fast  lowering  in 
the  West,  our  usual  party  made  another  visit  to  our  dear 
old  parish  church  and  resting  place  of  our  loved  ones. 
Here  we  were  joined  by  our  kind  friend's  daughter,  Miss 
D.,  bright,  intelligent  and  companionable,  who  had  prom- 
ised me  the  pleasure  of  her  society  for  a  walk  to  the 
"Folly,"  a  tower  on  the  top  of  the  "  Little  Mountain,"  and 
who  subsequently  sent  me  the  beautiful  manuscript  Welsh 
music  you  have  seen  and  heard.  Parting  from  the  sisters 
who  visited  E's  former  home,  we  two,  I  and  the  maiden, 
took  our  wajr  over  fair  meadows,  through  farm-yards, 
across  wooded  valleys  and  babbling  brooks,  and  soon  began 
the  ascent  of  the  hill  among  fern,  heather  and  furze, 
emerging  after  a  while  on  the  summit,  covered  with  a 
carpet  of  such  exquisite,  velvet-like  emerald  turf  that  you 
can  form  no  conception  of,  it  being  as  much  superior  in 
beauty  to  "  manienie,"  as  the  latter  is  to  Hilo  grass.  Here 
we  sat  down  awhile  to  rest  (not  that  my  companion 
needed  it,  but  I  did),  and  to  take  our  fill  in  enjoyment 
of  the  lovely  summer's  eve  and  glorious  landscape. 
From  our  vantage  ground  we  could  see  seven  counties, 
stretched  before  and  around  us  as  a  lovely  piece  of 
embroidery.  Beneath  our  feet  villages,  churches,  farms, 
rivers  and  canals  glistening  like  silver  streaks,  in*  the  dis- 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         163 

tance  the  towns  of  Caerleon  and  Newport,  with  the  last 
rays  of  the  setting  sun  flashing  on  their  windows  and 
making  diamonds  of  them  ;  beyond,  the  Bristol  channel 
with  the  "  white  sails  of  the  ships,"  and  on  the  further 
side  of  it  the  coast  of  Somerset,  towns  and  houses  gleam- 
ing white  on  its  shore.  To  our  left  the  Beaconshire 
Beacon,  and  Blorenge  range  of  mountains,  to  our  right 
the  wooded  hills  and  valleys  in  whose  hollows  Pontypool 
lay  hid  from  sight,  and  at  our  back  a  vast  billowy  range 
of  heath  and  gorse-clad  mountains,  stretching  till  they  are 
lost  in  the  clouds.  Oh  !  it  was  fair  to  look  upon  by  the 
dying  light  of  day.  Can  you  wonder  why  we  men  of 
"  Gwent  "  love  our  beautiful  country,  so  glorious  in  the 
expanse  of  its  stern,  wild  mountain  scenery,  quiet  sylvan 
dales  and  meads  between,  with  modest,  square-towered 
churehes  and  cottages  peeping  out  everywhere,  rich  in 
feudal  and  medieval  ruins  of  castles  and  abbeys,  and  in 
river,  torrent  and  sea;  that  her  ancient  sons  fought  so 
manfully  for  her,  or  that  the  "  Royal  Welsh  Fusileers  " 
(the  Monmouthshire  Regiment),  stands  on  a  high  niche  in 
the  Temple  of  Fame?  Pardon  this  digression  and  an  old 
man's  garrulity,  but  when  one  looks  again,  after  the  lapse 
of  half  a  century,  on  such  a  scene  as  I  have  tried  so 
imperfectly  to  describe,  I  think  you  will  allow  me  a  little 
latitude  of  feeling.  At  least  my  kind  companion  did,  for 
when  she  thought  I  had  gazed  my  fill  and  exhausted  my 
raptures,  a  quiet  voice  at  my  elbow  said:  "  Now,  shall  we 
go  and  see  the  Roman  road  ?  "  Rousing  from  my  reverie, 
for  in  thought  I  was  going  over  the  scores  of  times  I  had 
visited  the  place  before  and  until  now  had  never  known 
how  fair  it  was.     We  crossed  the  summit  a  short  distance 


164        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

on  the  beautiful  sward,  and  the  everlasting  work  of  the 
great  road  builders  lay  before  us,  diving  down  deep  under 
huge  overhanging  trees  into  the  pastoral  country  below. 
Antiquarians  are  not  agreed  as  to  whence  this  road  came, 
or  where  it  went  to.  No  doubt,  it  was  for  conveyance  of 
military  stores  and  march  of  the  legions,  and,  be  sure,  went 
straight  to  its  mark,  wherever  that  was.  What  enduring 
work  they  left  behind  them  !  Even  now  the  road  is  used 
at  times  by  the  country  people,  and  I  question  if  the  solid 
pavement  of  deep,  flat  stones  laid  on  their  edges  has  ever 
been  repaired  since  that  great  race  left  the  island,  more 
than  one  thousand  years  ago.  While  gazing  on  their  work 
and  talking  of  the  ages  since  past,  the  gathering  shades 
warned  us  to  depart,  so  we  returned  down  the  mountain 
by  another  route,  through  long,  shady  lanes,  when,  bidding 
my  fair  companion  "  good  night,"  with  many  thanks  for 
her  kindness,  I  felt  I  had  experienced  an  evening  of  per- 
fect enjoyment. 

Inexorable  time  did  not  permit  us  to  visit,  as  we  would 
have  liked  to  do,  the  beautiful  ivy-clad  castle  of  Usk,  near 
which  "  Owen  Glendower  "  was  defeated  by  Henry  IV.  in 
1405;  taken  by  Cromwell  two  centuries  and  a  half  later, 
and  in  whose  green  court-yard,  as  a  boy,  I  have  so  often 
played.  Or  Chepston  castle,  surrendered  to  the  Parliament 
forces  in  1645.  Or  Monmouth  castle,  erected  by  Walter 
Fitz-Osborne  in  1067 (favourite  residence  of  John  of  Gaunt), 
and  birthplace  of  Henry  V.,  hero  of  Agincourt  (Shake- 
speare's "Prince  Hal"),  which  surrendered  to  Cromwell 
in  1646.  Or  the  splendid  ruin  of  "Raglan  castle,  the  last 
stronghold  held  for  the  king  in  England,  by  the  aged 
Marquis  of  Worcester,  and  surrendered  to  Fairfax  on  fam- 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        165 

ine  and  want  of  powder  staring  the  garrison  in  the  face,  in 
1648,  the  proud  old  hero  being  permitted  to  march 
out  with  colours  flying  and  arms  retained.  Here  was  born 
Edward  Somerset,  Marquis  of  Worcester,  the  famous 
inventor,  by  whom  the  uses  of  steam  as  a  motive  power 
were  first  made  known.  The  beautiful  and  graceful  Tin- 
tern  Abbey,  situated  in  a  deep  wooded  vale  on  the  banks 
of  the  romantic  and  winding  Wye,  we  perhaps  regretted 
missing  more  than  all,  remembering,  as  we  did,  its  extreme 
loveliness  and  the  wondrous  stone  tracery  of  the  east  and 
west  windows,  and  remains  of  the  gracefully  springing 
arches  that  once  supported  the  roof.  I  shall  never  for- 
get the  almost  awful  sensation  I  felt  when  its  sublime 
beauty  first  broke  on  my  astonished  eyes,  in  years  gone 
by.  It  was  founded  by  a  body  of  Cistercians  in  1131  and 
unfortunately  destroyed  by  fire  after  the  suppression  of 
the  monasteries.  In  it  is  yet  to  be  seen  a  figure  in  armour 
from  a  tomb,  said  to  be  that  of  Strongbow,  Earl  of  Pem- 
broke, who  overran  and  conquered  Ireland.  I  am  pleased 
to  say  that  all  these  beautiful  remains  of  ancient  power 
and  piety,  situated  in  fair  "  Gwent,"  are  kept  from  falling 
into  further  decay,  the  sward  within  their  courts  carefully 
mown,  and  are  open  to  the  public  for  picnics  or  lawn 
parties. 

Disappointed  somewhat  in  not  seeing  the  above,  and 
the  sisters  being  very  desirous  of  visiting  their  old  home 
and  mother's  grave  at  Otterton  in  Devonshire,  we  left 
by  rail  one  fine  morning  for  that  place  via  New  Passage, 
Bristol  and  Exeter,  arriving  at  the  latter  fine  old  city  at  2 
p.  M.  This  ancient  city,  in  itself  a  county,  stands  upon  a 
hill  surrounded  by  loftier  heights,  with  the  river  Exe  at 


166         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

its  feet.  Once  a  Celtic  hill-fort  "  Caer  Isc,"  afterwards  a 
Koman  station,  then  a  stronghold  of  the  Saxons,  walled  in 
by  King  Athelstan,  and  on  it  the  stern  Norman  afterwards 
erected  the  massive  castle  of  Rougemont,  the  ruins  of 
which  we  had  not  time  to  visit.  "  Being  near  the  sea,  it 
was  much- harried  by  the  piratical  old  sea-kings,  hence 
Athelstan's  strong  walls,  within  which  the  mother  and 
sons  of  Harold  found  refuge  after  the  disastrous  battle  of 
Hastings,  and  were  vigorously  but  vainly  defended  by  the 
stout-hearted  citizens."  Many  more  battles  and  sieges  fell 
to  its  lot  in  the  turbulent  medieval  times,  and  during  the 
civil  war  it  stood  for  the  Parliament,  was  taken  by  the 
Royalists  and  re-taken  soon  after.  When  William  of  Orange 
landed  at  Torbay,  the  citizens  received  him  with  joyful 
acclamation,  for  his  banner  bore  the  motto  "  The  Protest- 
ant religion  and  the  liberties  of  England."  Many  fine  old 
houses  are  to  be  found  on  its  streets,  particularly  the  Guild 
Hall  and  another  ancient  building  a  few  doors  off. 

But  I  feel  I  must  confine  my  remarks  to  the  beautiful 
cathedral,  to  which  we  went  for  evening  service,  and  staid 
to  see  its  beauties  afterward.  The  west  front  is  truly  mag- 
nificent, with  hundred  of  statues  of  saints,  martyrs,  kings, 
and  heroes  in  the  gorgeous  stone-work  of  its  niches.  Many, 
alas !  are  empty  or  defaced,  thanks  to  the  fanatic  zeal  of 
Cromwell's  puritanical  soldiery,  but  are  being  replaced  as 
fast  as  the  alms  of  the  faithful  permit.  The  chaste  stone 
tracery  of  the  windows,  almost  lace-like  in  parts,  with  the 
splendour  of  the  glass  they  contain,  passes  my  descriptive 
powers.  The  beautiful  and  graceful  Lady  Chapel,  with  its 
wealth  of  monuments  and  brasses ;  the  Minstrel  Gallery, 
the  finest  example  jn  England,  built  out  from  the  inner 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         167 


wall,  and  to  which  access  is  gained  by  a  passage  in  the 
wall ;  and  the  ornately  decorated  alabaster  Reredos — so 
denounced  by  people  of  low-church  tendency  on  its  erec- 
tion some  years  ago — almost  require  a  volume  to  describe 
their  beauties.  The  wondrous  carving  of  pulpit  and  stalls, 
and  above  all  that  of  the  Bishop's  Throne— a  specimen 
of  fourteenth  century  work — with  its  lofty,  spire-like 
canopy,  I  wish  you  could  see  for  yourself.  The  noble 
rows  of  massive  pillars  supporting  the  superb  vaulting  of 
the  nave,  rich  in  sculptured  and  gilded  bosses,  with  much 
fan-tracery  of  loveliest  description,  revelling  in  ornamenta- 
tion full  of  wealth  of  invention  and  variety  of  detail,  with 
many  monuments,  the  rows  of  tattered  banners  hanging 
from  the  walls,  and  over  all,  the  dying  rays  of  the  setting 
sun  gleaming  through 

"  Storied  windows  richly  dight, 
Casting  a  dim  religious  light," 

make  a  whole  that  cannot  but  impress  one  with  his  own 
insignificance,  and  induce  a  feeling  of  reverence  in  so  sub- 
lime a  fane.  Its  outward  appearance  is  very  grand,  with 
the  two  massive  Norman  towers,  and  standing  as  it  does 
upon  a  hill,  gives  it  a  very  imposing  aspect,  viewed  from 
the  surrounding  country.  The  building  of  which  the 
towers  were  a  part  was  commenced  in  1111,  but  much 
injured  by  fire  during  Stephen's  siege  of  the  city  in  1136 ; 
various  additions  were  made  under  succeeding  bishops, 
and  finally  it  assumed  its  present  form  from  Bishop 
Brantyngham,  1369-94.  We  wandered  in  the  beautiful 
interior  and  around  its  precincts,  full  of  admiration,  long 
as  time  would  permit.  Thence  through  quiet  quaint 
streets  to  the  public-gardens,  and  finally  to  our  comfortable 


168         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

old-fashioned  hotel,  the  Half-Moon,  eschewing  the  modern 
and  more  pretentious  affair  near  the  railway  station,  for 
like  the  fat  knight  I  prefer  "  To  take  mine  ease  at  mine 
inn,"  and  dislike  noise  or  bustle. 

Next  morning  after  breakfast  we  left  by  rail  for  Exmouth, 
running  down  the  left  bank  of  the  river  to  Topsham,  to 
which  point  vessels  of  some  size  can  come;  the  passage  up 
to  Exeter  being  effected  by  means  of  a  ship-canal  completed 
""  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  Crossing  here  the  river  Clyst, 
which  at  this  point  joins  the  Exe,  we  continue  down  its 
estuary  dotted  plentifully  with  sails,  and  quickly  gain  the 
pretty  town  and  watering  place  of  Exmouth,  basking  in  the 
morning  sun,  and  terminus  of  the  railway.  What  a  pleasure 
it  was  to  me  to  see  the  bright  waters  of  the  English  channel 
dancing  in  the  sunlight  again,  and  I  mounted  with  delight 
to  the  box-seat  of  a  capital  four-horse  "  bus  "  for  our  next 
stopping  place,  Budleigh-Salterton.  The  sisters  took  inside 
berths,  the  sun  being  warm,  so  my  sole  outside  travelling 
companion  was  a  venerable  looking  man,  dressed  in  black, 
carrying  a  small  bag  of  same  colour;  soon  the  seat  behind 
us  was  occupied  by  a  young  man  and  woman,  who  at  first 
I  thought  were  strangers  to  each  other,  as  perhaps  they 
were.  Crack  !  goes  our  driver's  whip,  and  off  we  set 
through  lovely  coast  scenery.  Ascending  a  hill  we  turn  in- 
land where  all  looks  calm  and  beautiful  on  this  sunny 
summer's  day.  Charming  though  the  scenery  be,  I  can- 
not help  having  my  attention  drawn  away  at  times  by  the 
conversation  of  our  friends  behind  us  ;  they  seem  to  know 
each  seat,  villa,  and  mansion  that  we  pass,  and  their  talk 
is  full  of  the  "  Colonel "  and  the  "  General,"  so  that  I 
come  to  the  conclusion  they  are  moving  in  good  society. 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         169 

Of  the  subject  of  their  dialogue,  of  course,  I  take  no  heed, 
besides  I  am  fully  occupied  with  beauties  of  the  land- 
scape Presently  the  old  gentleman  at  my  side  opens  his 
bag,  takes  out  two  small  pamphlets,  and  turning  to  our 
fellow-travellers,  says  with  a  peculiar  smile,  "  Would  you 
mind  reading  the  other  side  of  the  question?"  "  Oh, 
certainly  not,"  from  both  ot  them.  "Then  please  study 
these  little  books,  and  in  particular  page  145."  I  was  fairly 
non-plussed.  What  did  all  this  mean?  Shortly  after 
our  driver  was  told  to  stop  at  the  entrance  of  a  shady 
lane  running  up  to  a  very  pretty  house,  where  several 
voung  folks  were  awaiting  their  guests  (for  a  lawn-tennis 
party,  as  I  supposed,  the  young  man  being  in  such  a  cos- 
tume) and  received  them  with  considerable  effusion.  On 
proceeding  my  neighbour  turned  to  me,  and  with  fine  scorn 
said,  "  Do  you  know  who  they  were?"  Expressing  my- 
self that  I  had  not  the  slightest  idea,  he  continued,  "  Why, 
bless  you,  sir,  only  Salvation  Army  folk,"  in  a  most  with- 
ering tone,  and  then  relapsed  into  silence.  An  hour  or 
so  subsequently  I  saw  him  in  the  little  town,  distributing 
most  zealously  from  his  black  bag,  tracts,  no  doubt  incul- 
cating his  own  particular  "doxy."  The  destination  of 
our  vehicle  is  now  reached  and  we  pull  up  at  the  Rolle 
Arms,  in  the  pretty  seaside  town  of  Budleigh-Salterton, 
It  is  situated  in  a  narrow  dell  running  obliquely  to  the 
sea,  and  consists  mainly  of  one  long  street,  through  one 
side  of  which  runs  a  swift,  sparkling  stream,  the  villas, 
houses  and  gardens  on  that  side  being  each  attained  by 
their  own  separate  bridges.  The  other  side  of  the  street 
the  houses  face  inward,  and  their  gardens — perfect  bowers 
of  myrtles  and  fuchsias — look  out  over  the  sea,  access  to 


170        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

the  beach  being  generally  obtained  by  steps  leading  down 
from  them.  The  shore  is  shingly,  bnt  I  shoul  1  imagine 
from  the  number  of  bathing-machines,  there  must  be 
sandy  bottom  a  little  way  out.  The  situation  being  so 
warm  and  sheltered,  and  the  atmosphere  containing  so 
much  ozone  as  it  is  said  to  do,  makes  it  a  very  desirable 
residence  for  delicate  people.  We  strolled  into  the  gar- 
den of  the  inn,  enjoying  the  charming  scenery  of  ocean 
and  shore  while  our  luncheon  was  preparing,  and  after- 
wards sauntered  over  the  town,  happening  upon  a  shop 
(with  the  doors  closed,  as  they  all  are  in  this  quiet  coun- 
try place,  and  a  small  bell  attached  inside)  in  the  win- 
dows of  which  was  displayed  such  a  variety  of  beautiful 
Honiton  lace,  my  companions  could  not  withstand  the 
temptation  to  enter,  and  on  finding  how  cheap  it  was,  of 
making  some  small  purchases.  Relating  this  incident 
subsequently  in  a  circle  of  friends,  and  remarking  how 
costly  such  articles  would  be  in  Honolulu,  one  of  the 
company  who  had  heard  some  of  my  ';  lectures,"  and  was 
possessed  of  a  burning  desire  to  see  our  beautiful  islands, 
thought  it  would  be  a  capital  idea  to  buy  a  good  parcel 
of  this  exquisite  lace,  carry  it  there  and  so  pay  his 
expenses.  I  warned  him  he  had  better  not  try  it,  brilliant 
as  the  idea  was,  as  there  was  a  young  man  here  who 
would  certainly  "  mark  'em  "  if  he  did. 

Our  trap  being  by  this  time  ready,  on  we  went  up  the 
hill,  past  snug  villas  with  thatched  roofs,  and  pretty  gar- 
dens facing  the  sea,  and  then  struck  inland  through  a 
charming  pastoral  country,  leaving  on  our  left  Hayes  Bar- 
ton (well  known  to  my  companions),  the  house  where  my 
great  hero  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  was  born,  with   thatched 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        171 

and  gabled  roof,  mullioned  windows,  looking  out  through 
masses  of  myrtles  and  fuchsias  cut  so  as  to  permit  the 
view.  Passing  Bicton,  the  beautiful  residence  of  the  aged 
Lady  Rolle,  widow  of  the  "Lord  Rolle  who  was  rolling  " 
in  Mr.  Barney  Maguire's  account  of  the  coronation,  we 
come  to  a  bridge  over  the  gliding  Otter,  with  its  wealth  of 
trout,  and  enter  the  village  of  Otterton.  It  consists  of  one 
long  straggling  street,  more,  I  fancy,  than  half  a  mile  in 
extent ;  many  of  the  cottages  are  built  of  "  cob,"  as  they 
call  it  here,  but  in  our  parts  named  wattle-and-daub, 
that  is  to  say,  willows  or  hazel  woven  like  basket-work 
and  plastered  with  clay  inside  and  out.  As  you  enter 
this  primitive  village  you  pass  a  large  open  space  sur- 
rounded with  magnificent  horse-chestnut  trees,  called  the 
"Green;"  it  is  said  a  May-pole  once  stood  in  its  center, 
but  that  was  before  my  companions'  memory.  Turning 
off  the  main  street  and  proceeding  up  toward  the  church 
we  came  to  the  spot  where  their  childhood's  home  once 
stood,  now,  alas !  an  indistinguishable  mass  of  crumbled 
wall  and  roof-tree,  neglected  orchard  and  garden,  two  stone 
gate-posts  with  round  stone  balls  on  their  tops  alone 
marking  the  entrance  to  its  former  site,  legal  complica- 
tions, or  disputed  memorial  claims,  being  the  cause  of  the 
decay.  From  thence  we  proceeded  to  the  churchyard 
where,  under  an  elm,  lay  sleeping  the  mother,  brother  and 
sister  of  them  both,  "  till  the  great  trump  shall  sound."  Of 
the  church  founded  soon  after  the  Conquest  (and  which, 
with  the  manor  of  Otterton,  belonged  to  the  wealthy 
abbey  of  Mont  St.  Michel  on  the  coast  of  Normandy)  only 
the  tower  remains,  it  being  rebuilt  and  beautifully  restored 
by  the  munificence  of  Lady  Rolle. 


172         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 


Our  intention  had  been  to  remain  for  a  day  or  two  in 
the  quiet  village,  but  finding  that  no  inn  accommodation 
could  be  obtained — it  having  degenerated  into  a  mere  pot- 
house since  the  death  of  the  old  lord,  who  used  to  hold 
rent-dinners,  etc.,  there — and  the  flight  of  years  having 
gathered  old  friends  to  the  quiet  of  the  churchyard  or 
scattered  them  somewhere  in  that  vast  empire  on  which 
the  sun  never  sets,  we  were  forced  to  continue  our  journey 
with  hearts  saddened  and  subdued,  yet  hopeful  and  thank- 
ful still.  Disappointed  here,  we  were  forced  to  push  on 
for  Sidmouth,  through  shady  roads,  past  umbrageous 
woods  and  crossing  purling  brooks,  many  farm-houses 
lying  at  short  distances  back  from  the  way  ever  since  we 
had  left  Budleigh-Salterton,  their  fronts  covered  with 
myrtle  or  climbing  roses.  Soon  we  arrive  at  the  foot  of 
High  Peak — on  the  landward  side — and  toil  up  the  steep 
ascent  among  ferns,  heaths,  and  gorse  of  rare  kinds  and 
wondrous  beauty.  Attaining  the  summit  a  glorious  view 
meets  our  eyes  of  land  and  sea,  after  enjoying  which  as 
long  as  we  can,  we  proceed  again  and  commence  the  descent 
of  the  other  side  down  to  the  beautiful  bay  and  town 
of  Sidmouth.  The  road  is  in  some  places  very  steep, 
mansions  and  villas,  parks  and  gardens,  bordering  each  side 
of  the  way,  and  all  a  source  of  gratification  and  delight  to 
the  sisters,  familiar  as  they  are  with  every  inch  of  ground, 
in  the  great  natural  beauties  of  which  years  have  effected 
no  change.  The  town,  a  very  favourite  watering-place  from 
its  sheltered  position  and  salubrious  climate,  lies  at  the 
mouth  of  a  valley,  enclosed  at  the  back  by  lofty  wooded 
hills  facing  southward  to  the  sea,  and  high  cliffs  of  some 
five  hundred   feet  extending  to   the  eastward  and  west- 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         173 

ward,  making  it  the  very  ideal  home  for  invalids.  The 
shore  is  pebbly,  and  celebrated  for  chalcedonies,  green, 
yellow  and  red  jaspers,  moss  agates  and  agatized  wood,  to 
be  found  upon  it.  A  splendid  esplanade  runs  along  the 
face  of  the  bay  to  protect  the  town  from  the  incursions  of 
the  sea,  but  sometimes  does  not  quite  succeed  in  doing  so, 
as  during  heavy  southerly  gales  the  low-lying  streets  are 
often  flooded.  Numerous  promenaders  are  walking  here 
enjoying  the  balmy  evening  air,  and  many  invalids  in 
chairs  being  wheeled  about  by  friends  or  servants.  These 
folk,  I  fancy,  were  either  permanent  or  transient  residents, 
for  at  the  comfortable  Royal  York  Hotel  on  the  esplanade 
where  we  stayed,  there  were  few  or  no  guests,  the  season 
not  having  yet  commenced,  thank  goodness  !  Many  beau- 
tiful villas  adorn  the  slopes  in  the  vicinity  of  the  town,  in 
one  of  which  the  Duke  of  Kent,  father  of  Queen  Victoria, 
died.  Local  tradition  says  that  this  part  of  the  coast  once 
projected  much  farther  into  the  sea  to  the  westward,  and 
colour  is  given  to  this  by  early  coins  and  Roman  relics 
frequently  washed  up  by  the  waves.  "  In  1841  a  remark- 
able figure — Chiron  with  Achilles  and  a  dog — probably 
the  head  of  a  Roman  ensign,  was  found  here."  When  we 
had  tired  of  strolling  on  the  esplanade,  drinking  in  the 
balmy  sea-air,  we  returned  and  sat  in  the  bow-window  of 
our  hotel  watching  the  groups  of  promenaders  long  as  the 
gloaming  of  the  summer  evening  would  permit,  and  then 
to  rest. 

Next  morning,  being  desirous  of  seeing  the  view  from 
the  summit  of  the  clifTs,  I  wandered  along  the  sea-wall, 
past  the  life-boat  station,  until  I  came  to  the  river  Sid, 
with  a  bar  of  shingle  across  its  mouth,  similar  to  so  many 


174        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

of  our  rivers  in  Hawaii,  and  like  them  washed  away 
when  heavy  rains  occur  in  the  hills.  Crossing  it  and  the 
low-lying  meadows  on  a  long  bridge,  you  come  to  a  steep, 
zig-zag  ascent  winding  upward  through  a  wooded  slope 
and  plentifully  furnished  with  seats,  on  which  fair  maid- 
ens, aye,  and  even  an  old  salt,  were  seated  reading  and 
enjoying  the  morning  breezes.  When  gaining  the  summit 
what  a  scene  of  beauty  bursts  on  your  enraptured  gaze ! 
Meadows  and  woods,  fields  of  ripening  corn  up  here  on 
the  level  of  the  cliffs,  and  below  you  the  pretty  town,  em- 
bosomed as  it  is  by  the  hills,  with  the  gleaming  waters  of 
the  river  stretching  up  the  valley.  "  Long  lines  of  cliffs" 
east  and  west  of  the  bay  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  sheer 
precipices  down  to  the  beach,  with  flowers  and  clinging 
plants  adorning  their  faces,  which  I  longed  to  gather  but 
feared  the  dizzy  height.  The  water,  flashing  in  the  sun- 
light, was  clear  as  at  Waikiki,  but  not  of  the  same  cerulean 
hue,  and  the  bottom,  at  a  long  distance  from  the  shore, 
plainly  visible.  A  tall  hedge  of  hawthorn  bordered  the 
fields  just  inside  the  cliffs,  I  suppose  intended  to  protect  the 
crops,  which,  judging  from  its  inward  wind-swept  appear- 
ance, no  doubt  it  did,  a  well-kept  path  leading  up  along 
it  to  the  farms  beyond,  and  for  the  benefit  of  strollers 
like  myself.  While  enjoying  the  almost  superfluity  of 
beauty  by  which  I  was  surrounded,  I  was  joined  by  a  fine 
specimen  of  "  West  Countrie  "  farmer  who  told  me  he  was 
visiting  a  friend  "up  along."  Like  me,  he  was  enchanted 
with  the  view,  but  unlike  me,  was  learned  in  root  crops, 
grain,  etc.,  and  gifted  with  most  pronounced  meteorological 
views  peculiarly  his  own,  which  he -promulgated  in  the 
richest  Doric  I  heard  in  England.  He  lived  in  Zummerzet- 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        175 

shire,  between  the  two  u  zeas,"  i.  e.,  the  Bristol  and  English 
channels,  and  so  accounted  for  the  utter  absence  of  thunder- 
storms in  his  favoured  locality.  His  generation  of  the 
stalwart  sons  of  the  soil  is  fast  passing  away,  and  with  it 
the  variety  of  almost  barbarous  dialects  that  in  my  boy- 
hood prevailed  in  some  parts  of  England.  Education  and 
steam  are  fast  accomplishing  their  work.  Retracing  my 
steps,  full  of  delight  with  my  stroll,  I  met  M.,  who  had 
taken  courage  and  attained  half  way  up  the  ascent  and 
was  resting  on  a  bench  under  a  shady  tree,  for  the  morning 
was  almost  tropical. 

After  a  farewell  stroll  through  the  town,  we  took  the 
omnibus  for  the  railway  station  some  two  miles  off,  and 
close  to  the  beautiful  house  and  grounds  (now  a  hotel) 
formerly  occupied  by  an  eccentric  Mr.  Fish,  a  most  deter- 
mined misogynist,  who  used  to  throw  open  the  place  to 
the  public,  the  sole  condition  being  that  the  women 
should  be  closely  veiled,  and  who  was  never  seen  by  his 
guests.  Our  return  track  lay  through  fair  scenery  past 
Honiton,  famed  for  its  pillow-made  lace  (which  manu- 
facture is  more  or  less  carried  on  in  every  village  here- 
abouts), Ottery  St.  Mary's  with  a  grammar  school,  founded 
by  Henry  VIII.,  and  a  fine  old  church  in  which  Fairfax 
quartered  his  men  and  horses,  doing  much  damage  by 
breaking  the  monumental  figures  and  stained  glass.  We 
soon  arrived  at  Exeter,  deciding,  contrary  to  our  original 
intention  (which  was  to  have  spent  Sunday  here  and  go 
to  the  cathedral  services),  to  push  right  on,  which  we  did, 
arriving  at  the  Pontypool  Road  station  at  10:30  p.  m., 
weary,  but  gratified.  It  being  imperative  that  we  should 
hurry,  as  other  dear  ones  were  waiting  for  us,  we  now  felt 


176        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

that  the  time  had  come  when  we  must,  however  unwill- 
ingly, tear  ourselves  away.  But  ere  I  leave  my  native 
town,  most  likely  forever,  I  pray  you,  pardon  me  for 
transcribing  a  couple  of  paragraphs  that  fell  under  my 
notice  while  there,  showing  what  changes  time  has 
wrought,  and  ot  some  interest  to  both  of  as.  "  Mr.  L." 
(my  father)  "  had  the  honor  of  introducing  the  first  gig, 
the  first  chaise  (about  1816),  and  the  first  four-horse  coach 
(about  1819-20)  ever  seen  in  Pontypool.  The  arrival  of  the 
latter  caused  the  streets  to  be  thronged  with  curious  spec- 
tators, and  was  as  great  an  event  in  its  way  as  was  the 
opening  of  the  Monmouthshire  Company's  Railway  from 
Pontypool  to  Newport  in  1852."  The  second  extract  is 
from  the  Monmouthshire  Merlin — a  weekly  newspaper — 
of  14th  July,  1849,  and  refers  more  particularly  to  the 
writer.     It  says  : 

"  CALIFORNIA  GOLD. 

"There  has  been  much  interest  felt  in  this  town  for 
some  days  past  in  the  return  of"  (my  innate  modesty 
steps  in  here)  "  Captain  G.  L.,  a  native  of  this  place, 
from  the  golden  region  of  California,  with  lumps  of  the 
precious  metal  in  his  pockets  as  large  as  two-ounce 
weights,  and  a  fund  of  information  about  that  '  El 
Dorado'  on  the  banks  of  the  Sacramento,  as  attractive 
and  alluring  as  are  the  wondrous  tales  of  the  Arabian 
Entertainments."  "  Mr.  L.  is  commander  of  the  T.,  the 
arrival  of  which  vessel  at  Liverpool  with  the  first  great 
freight  of  gold  was  noticed  in  the  Merlin  at  the  time, 
and  we  understand  so  thoroughly  satisfied  is  he  of  the 
overflowing  abundance  of  the  precious  metal  in  California 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         177 

— which  he  says  can  scarcely  be  overstated  "  (alas,  not 
much  fell  to  his  share  !)  "  that  he  intends  sailing  thither 
again  shortly  "  (hence  this  long-winded  yarn)  "and  may 
success  attend  him  !" 

A  farewell  visit  to  the  old  home,  and  to  St.  James' 
Chapel-of-Ease,  where  as  a  boy  I  had  so  often  gone  with 
my  dear  mother,  and  the  dreaded  day  had  come  when 
we  must  say  adieu,  perhaps  forever !  Ah,  these  partings 
press  the  life  from  out  old  hearts,  as  well  as  young  ones. 
Still  we  felt  we  had  much  to  be  thankful  for  in  having 
been  permitted  to  meet  at  all  again.  On  the  8th  of  July 
we  left  via  Newport  for  Cardiff,  the  principal  seaport  of 
Wales,  and  great  outlet  of  the  coal  mining  and  iron  dis- 
tricts of  Glamorganshire.  Our  way  lay  down  the  valleys 
of  the  "  Avon  Lly  wd  "  and  Usk,  until  Newport  is  reached, 
which  Giraldus  Cambrensis  tells  us  was  in  his  day  called 
"  Novus  Burgus,"  to  distinguish  it  from  the  ancient  city 
of  Caerleon,  out  of  whose  declining  greatness  it  arose.  It 
has  a  large  export  trade  in  coal  and  iron,  with  extensive 
docks,  and  may  be  considered  a  flourishing  town. 

Leaving  Newport,  passing  a  flat  and  rather  uninterest- 
ing country  bordering  on  the  sea,  but  surrounded  by  dis- 
tant hills,  we  arrive  at  Cardiff,  and  find  the  Doctor  await- 
ing us  at  the  station.  The  growth  of  this  town  is  some- 
thing marvellous.  From  it  I  first  went  to  sea  in  1838, 
when  I  do  not  think  it  had  more  than  ten  thousand  in- 
habitants, and  vessels  laid  in  a  tidal  canal,  or  in  Penarth 
roads,  as  we  did  ;  now  it  has  some  of  the  most  magnificent 
docks  in  the  world,  and  its  population  is  set  down  at  one 
hundred  thousand.  All  this  increase  of  trade  and  pros- 
perity is  due  to  the  excellence  of  the  Welsh  coal  for 

12 


178        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

steaming  purposes,  and  to  the  vicinity  of  the  mines  from 
which  it  is  derived,  to  this  port.  I  used  occasionally  to 
amuse  myself  by  an  evening  stroll  —  with  the  Doctor 
or  one  of  his  sons — down  to  the  docks,  or  pier-head,  and 
was  surprised  at  the  number  and  size  of  the  steamers 
and  sailing  vessels  of  every  nationality  taking  in  their 
cargoes  there,  and  with  the  rapidity  that  it  is  done.  Huge 
wagons  or  trams,  containing  four  tons  each,  are  run  up- 
on a  turn-table,  where  one  man,  manipulating  a  hydraulic 
lift,  raises  it  high  enough  above  the  vessel's  rail,  whence 
it  is  "  dumped  "  into  the  hold  ;  this  operation  goes  on 
uninterruptedly,  and  the  largest  vessels  are  loaded  in  a 
couple  of  days.  It  was  almost  hard  to  believe  that  in 
some  of  the  rather  unsavory  streets  through  which  my 
rambles  took  me,  that  you  were  in  an  English  town, 
the  languages  you  heard  around  you  being  a  polyglot  of 
all  the  tongues  of  Europe,  and  some  of  Asia,  too,  and 
many  of  the  house-signs  bearing  names  decidedly  not 
Anglo-Saxon.  Cardiff,  or  Caer  Taff,  is  with  its  ancient 
castle,  built  on  the  river  Taff,  and  has  always  been  a  place 
of  importance ;  successively  British,  Roman,  Saxon  and 
Norman.  "  The  castle  was  originally  built  in  1080  by 
Jestyn-ap-Gwrgant,  Lord  of  Glamorgan" — enlarged  and 
much  strengthened  by  the  Normans — "  in  1648  besieged 
by  Oliver  Cromwell,  who  obtained  possession  after  three 
days'  fierce  assault  by  the  treachery  of  a  deserter,  who 
received  for  his  reward  the  gallows  and  a  halter,  lest  it 
should  be  said  that  the  Puritans  encouraged  such  coward- 
ice and  treachery."  It  is  now  owned  by  the  Marquis  of 
Bute,  as  are  the  docks  covering  seventy-six  acres,  costing 
more  than  a  million  sterling,  and  much  more  property  in 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         179 

the  vicinity.  The  father  of  the  present  Marquis  dying 
while  he  was  an  infant,  a  large  amount  of  money  accumu- 
lated during  his  minority,  which  a  clause  in  his  father's 
will  directed  was  to  be  spent  on,  or  used  in  improvement 
of  the  estate,  hence  the  splendid  docks,  and  restoration  of 
part  of  the  ancient  castle,  now  used  as  a  residence. 

One  fine  day  the  Doctor  took  us,  with  my  niece  S.  and 
Mrs.  R.,  daughter  of  an  old  frieod,  to  see  the  remains  of 
the  former  fortress  and  splendidly  restored  portion  now 
used  as  a  residence  by  its  noble  owner.  Entering  the 
ancient  gateway  leading  into  the  court-yard  of  the  castle 
you  have  on  your  immediate  left  a  tower  in  which  "  Henry 
I.  and  William  Rufus  imprisoned  their  unfortunate  brother 
Robert  for  twenty-six  years,"  and  as  I  read  at  school,  put 
out  his  eyes  with  a  red-hot  copper  basin.  In  front  at  some 
little  distance  is  the  keep  preserved  with  great  care  from 
falling  into  further  ruin,  and  from  the  summit  of  which  a 
most  beautiful  view  is  obtained  of  the  surrounding  country 
and  valley  of  the  Taff.  The  moat  encircling  it  has  been 
re-dug,  filled  with  water  from  the  river,  as  of  old,  and  the 
approaches  restored.  Much  of  the  ancient  walls  are  intact 
on  two  sides  of  the  area,  and  beneath  them,  around  keep 
and  moat,  walks  are  laid  out,  overshadowed  with  noble 
trees.  The  inhabited  part  of  the  castle,  occupying  the 
left  side  of  the  space  as  you  enter,  has  been  elaborately 
restored,  preserving  as  much  as  is  possible,  in  accordance 
with  the  requirements  of  modern  life,  its  ancient  character. 
The  lower  apartments  are  large  and  lofty,  elegantly  fur- 
nished of  course,  and  looking  much  like  ordinary  rooms 
in  great  mansions,  with  this  exception,  that  the  beams 
running  across  to  support  the  stone  floors  of  the  rooms 


180        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

above,  and  in  some  cases  the  fire-place3,  are  gorgeous 
specimens  of  art  in  carving,  gilding,  colour  and  design. 
The  Banqueting  Hal]  is  a  truly  splendid  apartment,  rich 
in  colour  and  gold,  walls  and  ceilings  painted  in  fresco 
with  the  story  of  Duke  Robert  of  Glo'ster.  A  small  chapel 
or  oratory  on  this  floor,  in  memory  of  the  present  owner's 
father,  who  was  not  a  Roman  Catholic,  as  he  is,  is  very 
rich  and  beautiful  in  finish  and  design,  and  below  the 
altar,  covered  with  glass,  is  a  Dead  Christ  in  marble,  so 
awfully  death-like  and  real  in  appearance  that  it  positively 
made  my  flesh  "creep."  Ascending  the  winding  stone 
stairs  you  attain  suite  after  suite  of  fine  rooms,  all  most 
elaborately  finished  with  gorgeous  ceilings,  mantel-pieces, 
coloured  windows,  and  every  accessory  of  great  wealth.  I 
do  not  think  that  in  any  of  the  palaces  we  saw  there  was 
anything  more  splendid  than  some  of  these  rooms  were. 
On  gaining  the  summit  of  the  principal  tower,  which  is  as 
elaborately  ornamented  outside  as  inside,  most  charming 
views  are  obtained  from  windows  especially  placed  for  the 
purpose,  and  through  glades  and  vistas,  also  specially 
arranged.  The  upper  part  of  this  tower  is  open  to  the  sky, 
has  a  fountain  in  its  center,  small  rooms  around  the  sides, 
from  which  the  views  I  mentioned  are  obtained,  the  central 
space  occupied  by  flowering  plants  and  shrubs  and  termed 
the  Winter  Garden.  When  I  first  saw  this  castle  in  the 
year  before  mentioned,  1838,  I  could  not  obtain  entrance 
into  the  court-yard,  being  clad  in  the  round  blue  jacket  of 
a  sailor.  There  was  no  residence  there  in  those  days,  but 
I  suppose  such  a  costume  was  derogatory  to  the  blue  blood 
of  the  Butes.  Anyhow,  the  yarn  on  board  ship  was  that 
"  neither  hogs,  dogs,  or  sailors  " — mark  you,  we  are  last — 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD   WORLD.        181 

"  were  allowed  inside  the  gates,"  and  that  a  notice  to  that 
effect  was  posted  on  them.  I  cannot  say  I  saw  it,  but  I 
know  that  with  an  elder  brother  we  were  refused  admit- 
tance. 

As  a  place  of  residence  Cardiff  has  not  much  to  rec- 
ommend it,  lying  so  low,  but  has  pleasant  surroundings, 
good  streets  and  shops,  a  fine  town  hall,  museum  and 
library,  with  all  the  concomitants  of  a  flourishing  town. 
There  are  many  very  nice  walks  and  drives  to  be  had  in 
the  neighborhood,  on  some  of  which  I  beg  your  company. 
First  let  us  go  with  my  niece  IS.  and  her  daughter  B.  to 
the  Sophia  Gardens,  in  part  of  which  a  cricket  match  was 
in  progress.  They  seem  to  me  to  play  cricket  eternally  in 
this  town  ;  perhaps  it  was  due  to  holiday  time  and  fair 
summer  weather.  These  gardens  are  a  large  space  of 
ground  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river — crossed  here  by 
a  handsome  bridge — from  the  castle,  well  laid  out  in  walks, 
shrubberies,  lake,  etc.,  with  bowling-green  and  lawn-tennis 
courts,  presented  by  the  Marquis  of  Bate  to  the  townsfolk 
on  their  surrender  of  an  ancient  right  of  way  through  the 
castle  domain,  and  named  after  his  mother.  It  is  a  pleas- 
ant place  for  a  stroll  under  the  shady  trees,  especially  when 
the  river  is  full  with  the  tide. 

Another  enjoyable  trip  by  the  same  party  was  to  the 
pretty  suburb  of  Penarth,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
bay  or  roads.  Situated  on  a  much  higher  and  more 
wooded  ground  than  Cardiff,  it  has  superior  advantages 
as  a  place  of  residence,  as  numerous  villas,  snug  cottages 
and  several  pretty  streets  testify.  It  is  very  quiet  com- 
pared with  its  sister-town,  and  yet  has  a  good  dock  of 
its  own  and  fairly  filled  with  shipping.     There  is  also  a 


182        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

very  well  laid-out  public  garden  on  the  side  of  the  hill  next 
the  sea,  from  which  a  beautiful  view  is  obtained  of  the 
British  channel,  with  Barry  Island,  the  Flat  and  Steep 
Holms,  and  the  opposite  coast  of  Somersetshire,  the  houses 
of  Clevedon  shining  white  in  the  sun.  Numerous  sailing 
crafts  and  steamers  give  life  to  the  picture,  and  between 
us  and  Cardiff  many  vessels  are  lying  in  Penarth  roads 
waiting  for  the  tide  to  enter  the  docks  on  one  side  or  the 
other.  As  I  sat  here  musing,  looking  at  the  forest  of  masts 
opposite,  and  on  those  in  "  the  haven  under  the  hill "  on 
this  side,  Imogen's  words  came  to  my  mind,  "And  by  the 
way,  tell  me  how  Wales  was  made  so  happy  as  to  inherit 
such  a  haven."  Pursuing  this  train  of  thought,  why  were 
these  British  Isles  made  so  rich  in  coal,  iron  and  other 
minerals,  with  so  many  fine  harbors,  "  and  compassed  by 
the  inviolate  sea?"  I  trust  it  is  not  presumptuous  to  believe 
that  Divine  wisdom  intended  them  for  the  home  of  a  great 
race,  mother  of  mighty  nations,  whose  inborn  love  of 
liberty,  free  institutions,  literature  and  language  are  des- 
tined to  spread  over  much  of  the  habitable  globe.  But  let 
them  look  to  it  in  their  power  and  wealth,  lest  like  the 
Israelites  of  old,  they  forget  whence  all  these  good  things 
come,  and  like  them  fall ! 

The  day  before  we  left  the  hospitable  town  of  Cardiff, 
where  people  seemed  to  emulate  each  other  in  their  kind- 
ness to  us,  we  made  part  of  a  large  company  at  a  picnic 
given  in  our  honor  at  Dinas  Powis.  Beside  our  usual 
family  party,  were  a  charming  young  Irish  lady,  a  bride, 
who  took  a  great  fancy  to  M.,  the  amiable  Miss  D.,  and 
her  artist  cousin,  Mr.  T.,  a  most  entertaining  person,  who 
seemed  to  know  the  family  history  and  name  of  every 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        183 

bird,  insect,  plant  and  flower ;  indeed,  a  regular  "  walk- 
ing Cyclopedia."  His  company  and  conversation  was  a 
great  treat  to  me,  and  we  trusted  that  he,  with  the  Doctor, 
would  have  been  out  here  ere  this,  to  see  the  wonders  of 
our  great  volcano,  both  being  ardent  disciples  of  science. 
We  had  a  perfectly  charming  day  in  every  way,  boiling 
our  kettle  in  the  woods,  and  dame  Nature  kindly  doing 
her  best  to  help  us,  every  one  of  our  party  following  her 
good  example. 

Before  leaving  Wales  I  think  I  ought  to  mention  that 
it  is  said  the  Marquis  of  Bute,  to  whom  Caerphilly  Castle 
belongs,  offered  to  restore  it  on  condition  that  the  Prince 
of  Wales  would  reside  in  it  one  month  in  each  year,  but 
that  His  Royal  Highness  was  forced  to  decline.  Luckily 
perhaps,  for  the  noble  lord's  pocket ! 


V. 


^AT'N  iach,"  romantic  Morgan wg,  "  Da  boch,"  my  much- 
1  loved  native  Gwent,  with  your  wild  hills  full  of  untold 
mineral  wealth,  your  deep  sylvan  valleys,  and  flashing 
mountain  streams,  subsiding  into  quiet  rivers  as  they  near 
the  sea.  On  through  the  warm  summer  air  heavy  with 
the  perfume  of  flowers  and  hum  of  insects,  over  much  of 
the  road  we  have  travelled  before,  into  the  fair  and  purely 
agricultural  country  of  Hereford. 

This  section  of  the  country  is  justly  noted  for  its  per- 
fect farming,  as  is  fully  evidenced  by  comfortable  looking 
farm-houses,  well-kept  barns  and  rick-yards,  trim  hedge- 
rows, and  highly  cultivated  fields.  Orchards  and  hop- 
fields  are  rich  with  fast  ripening  crops,  and  the  far-famed 
white-faced  cattle  lie  complacently  chewing  the  cud  in 
water-meadows  under  shady  trees.  On  arriving  at  the 
Hereford  station  we  find  Mrs.  D.,  sister  of  our  kind  friend, 
Mr.  T.  H.  D.,  waiting  to  receive  us,  and  are  quickly  car- 
ried off  to  her  hospitable  home  in  the  pretty,  cleanly  town. 
This  is  another  ancient  city,  charmingly  situated  on  the 
river  Wye.  The  diocese  is  of  British  origin,  and  as  far 
back  as  680  a  synod  was  held  here  by  the  Saxons,  and 
subsequently  the  see  was  founded,  with  Gutta  as  first 
bishop.  The  castle,  of  which  but  little  remains,  has 
undergone  the  usual  sieges  common  to  them  all,  in  Nor- 
man and  Saxon  periods,  down  through  feudal  ages,  to  its 

184 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        185 

subsequent  destruction  at  the  close  of  the  civil  war  in 
1645.  The  cathedral,  an  early  Norman  structure,  in  the 
form  of  a  double  cross,  with  a  massive  central  tower  richly 
carved,  dates  from  1072.  The  chapter-house,  ladye-chapel 
and  cloisters  are  very  fine,  and  we  admired  them  much. 
This  cathedral  was  once  very  rich  in  fine  tombs  and  mon- 
umental brasses  ;  of  the  former,  many  have  been  defaced, 
and  of  the  latter  many  are  said  to  have  been  stolen  upon 
the  fall  of  a  tower  some  two  centuries  ago,  and  by  the 
Parliamentary  soldiery.  There  is,  however,  a  goodly  col- 
lection of  both  still  left.  Some  of  the  former  are  quite 
beautiful ;  many  of  the  latter  are  quaint  enough,  as  well  as 
beautiful.  Among  them  I  noticed  one  of  Sir  Somebody, 
I  forgot  whom,  standing  with  a  wife  on  either  hand  of 
him,  and  below  them,  on  one  side,  ten  sons,  on  the  other 
side  eleven  daughters ! 

We  spent  what  time  was  at  our  disposal  in  wandering 
through  this  beautiful  interior,  and  around  the  shady 
cloisters  ;  thence  for  a  stroll  to  see  as  much  as  possible  of 
this  very  nice,  clean,  quiet  town. 

One  object  of  interest  here  is  the  house  in  which  Nell 
Gwynn  was  born.  This  city  was  also  the  birthplace  of 
David  Garrick,  its  theatre  being  long  managed  by  the 
Kemble  family,  and  in  it  the  genius  of  Clive  and  Siddons 
developed.  On  the  evening  of  our  arrival  we  saw  much 
of  the  charming  scenery  by  which  this  place  is  sur- 
rounded, in  a  drive  with  our  kind  hostess  around  the 
suburbs.  I  also  strolled  with  one  of  her  sons,  a  bright 
little  lad,  for  my  guide,  through  the  ruined  adjacent 
monastery  of  Black  Friars,  now  used  as  almshouses  for  aged 
couples,  many  of  whom  we  saw  wandering  in  their  little 


186        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

gardens,  among  cabbages  and  scarlet  runners,  sweet  Will- 
iams, wallflowers,  princess  feathers,  and  other  good  old- 
fashioned  favourites,  the  men  smoking  their  evening  pipes 
in  peace  and  quiet.  Also  within  the  grounds  is  a  fine  old 
stone  pulpit,  from  which  the  Black  Friars  used  once  to 
preach,  and  that  has  been  restored  of  late  years. 

The  view  from  the  bridge  over  the  Wye — celebrated 
for  its  salmon  and  trout  fishery — is  very  fair  to  look  upon, 
with  the  castle  meadows,  and  some  remains  of  its  walls 
on  the  left  hand,  down  the  stream.  Nearer  to  you,  on  the 
same  side,  the  noble  tower  of  the  cathedral.  Everything 
seems  cheap  here,  and  I  fancy  it  would  be  not  only  an 
economical,  but  a  pleasant  place  to  live  in,  that  is,  in  sum- 
mer time  ;  as  to  winter,  deponent  is  uncertain.  We  were 
more  than  gratified  by  our  all  too  short  stay  in  this  city, 
and  left  with  great  regret,  our  kind  friend  accompanying 
us  to  the  railway  station,  at  about  1  o'clock  p.  m.,  for 
Oxford. 

Three  hours'  travel,  part  of  it  through  the  beautiful 
Malvern  district,  which  with  its  rich  hill  scenery,  pretty 
villas,  splendid  hotels,  schools,  hydropathic  establish- 
ments, gardens,  and  all  the  necessary  adjuncts  of  a  fash- 
ionable watering  place,  combine  to  make  it  one  of  the 
most  charming  spots  in  Europe,  and  we  arrive  at  the  fair 
Queen  City  of  England. 

I  am  prepared  to  say  with  Hawthorne,  "  It  is  a  despair 
to  see  such  a  place  and  ever  to  leave  it,  for  it  would  take 
a  lifetime,  and  more  than  one,  to  comprehend  and  enjoy 
it  satisfactorily."  Unfortunately  I  was  anything  but  well 
on  our  arrival  here,  and  glad  to  seek  the  rest  of  the  quiet, 
quaint  old  hostel  called  the  "  Mitre,"  in  High  street,  with 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         187 

the  ancient  tower  of  All  Saints'  Church  shadowing  its 
central  court.  What  a  pleasant  old  inn  it  is,  said  to  be 
founded  in  1400  ;  underneath  a  window  opposite  to  ours 
was  the  date  1625. 

Next  morning  was  bright,  warm  and  sunny,  a  regular 
Honolulu  da}7.  How  pleasant  it  is  to  be  awakened  on  a 
fair  summer's  morn  by  the  sweet  chiming  of  the  bells 
from  tower  and  steeple,  especially  in  an  ancient  town  like 
this,  home  of  "  The  bonny  Christ  Church  bells,"  1,  2,  3,  4, 
5,6. 

"  They  eouBd  bo  wondrous,  so  woundy  sweet, 
As  they  trowl  so  merrily,  merrily.'''' 

Ere  we  sallied  forth  to  see  the  city  the  manageress 
kindly  showed  me  over  our  hotel.  What  queer  old  laby- 
rinthine passages,  rooms  in  unexpected  places,  "  Up  stairs, 
and  down  stairs,  and  in  my  lady's  chamber,"  but  all  so 
comfortable,  quiet  and  restful ;  though  the  massive  beams 
supporting  some  of  the  ceilings,  and  the  absence  of  life,  or 
electric  lights,  make  it  very  unlike  a  modern  hotel.  The 
day  was  too  warm  and  our  time  too  limited  to  allow 
going  on  foot,  so  procuring  a  carriage,  our  Jehu  acting  as 
guide,  we  proceeded  to  see  what  we  could  of  this  interest- 
ing city.  Of  its  history  I  have  not  time  to  write,  though 
no  doubt  a  British  town  existed  on  its  site,  the  junction 
of  the  rivers  Cherwell  and  Thames,  the  latter  being  here 
called  the  Isis.  Alfred  the  Great  is  said  to  have  founded 
the  University  in  872,  and  early  in  the  tenth  century  it 
was  surrounded  with  walls  for  protection  against  the 
Danes,  but  ultimately  succumbed  and  was  burnt  by  them 
in  1009.  As  you  know,  it  stood  for  the  king  in  the  great 
rebellion,  Charles  I.  held  Court  and  Parliament  here,  as 


188        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

well  as  coining  money  for  service  of  the  crown,  the  plate 
of  the  various  colleges  being  used  for  that  purpose. 

Leaving  our  hotel  we  drove  down  the  fine  broad  High 
street,  over  Magdalen  bridge,  here  crossing  two  branches 
of  the  Cherwell,  close  to  the  Magdalen  college,  from  the 
beautiful  tower  of  which  a  Latin  hymn  is  sung  by  the 
choristers  on  the  first  day  of  May  in  each  year,  "  at  5 
o'clock  in  the  morning,"  called  the  "  Maudlen  Grace," 
that  being  the  pronunciation  of  the  name  of  the  college 
always  used  in  Oxford.  Thence  around  the  suburbs  by 
Keble  College,  through  streets  and  rows  of  most  charming 
residences  it  has  ever  been  my  lot  to  see,  and  back  into 
town  over  Folly  bridge,  crossing  the  beautiful,  clear  waters 
of  the  Isis  near  the  celebrated  Salters'  boat-houses.  Our 
Jehu  enquiring  if  I  knew  why  the  river  was  called  the 
Isis,  and  I  answering  in  the  negative,  said  "It  was 
because  it  always  froze  from  the  bottom  first,  and  never 
from  the  top."  I  did  not  quite  understand  the  relevancy 
of  this  explanation,  but  was  too  delighted  with  all  my 
surroundings  to  argue  or  ask  for  more. 

We  now  commenced  our  rounds  of  the  various  colleges, 
twenty-one  in  number,  of  all  of  which,  except  one,  we 
were  only  able  to  see  the  outer  walls  and  beautiful  build- 
ings, though  open  and  free  to  the  public.  The  exception 
was  the  lovely  grounds  of  the  New  College,  founded  by 
William  of  Wykeham,  in  1379.  You  enter  down  a  street 
so  narrow  that  you  are  forced  to  leave  your  vehicle  behind 
you;  passing  through  a  gateway  rich  with  gems  of  the 
ancient  sculptor's  art,  you  cross  a  paved  court,  and 
through  another  archway  with  residences  above  it,  into 
the  loveliest  and  shadiest  of  college  grounds.     It  is  partly 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        189 

surrounded  by  remains  of  the  old  city  walls,  grand  old 
trees  overhang  its  many  charming  walks,  numerous  seats 
are  scattered  about  beneath  them  and  in  quiet  nooks  and 
corners,  making,  with  the  beautiful,  closely-shaven  turf 
and  adjacent  college  buildings,  such  a  haven  of  rest  it 
would  be  difficult  to  excel,  and  which  the  many  strollers 
and  quiet  readers  scattered  about  seemed  fully  to  appre- 
ciate, as  I  know  we  did.  The  colleges  are  all  incorporated 
bodies,  but  the  halls,  of  which  there  are  four,  are  not ;  all 
are  distinct  from  the  University,  though  subject  to  its 
statutes.  Near  Baliol  College,  in  Broad  street — founded  in 
1260  by  the  father  of  John  Baliol,  King  of  Scotland — an 
iron  cross  on  the  street  level,  marks  the  spot  where  Arch- 
bishop Cranmer  and  Bishops  Latimer  and  Ridley  were 
burnt  for  adhesion  to  the  faith.  And  at  a  short  distance 
off,  in  a  more  open  space,  a  fine  memorial  to  the  memory 
of  those  devoted  martyrs  is  erected .  We  attended  vespers 
at  Christ  Church — the  Cathedral  Church  of  Oxford — 
where  I  need  hardly  say  the  services  were  beautifully 
rendered,  and  the  sublime  anthem  "  I  know  that  my 
Redeemer  liveth,"  so  exquisitely  sung  that  its  strains 
echo  in  my  ears  even  now,  seeming  to  roll  and  soar  with 
grand  organ  accompaniment,  among  the  lofty  arches  and 
fretted  tracery  of  the  building. 

Returning  to  our  inn,  we  sat  in  a  large  bay  window 
watching  the  gay  crowds  passing  and  re-passing  in  the 
street — not  being  term-time,  caps  and  gowns  were  absent 
— on  this  lovely  summer  eve,  till  near  sundown,  when  I 
went  out  to  see  if  I  could  find  a  chemist's  shop  open, 
leaving  M.  chatting  with  a  lady  from  the  Isle  of  Wight, 
who  had  left  her  home  to  be  out  of  the  way  of  the  gaieties 


190        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

attendant  on  the  Princess  Beatrice's  wedding.  I  wandered 
up  High  street,  and  not  finding  what  I  sought,  turned 
down  St.  Aldgate  street,  past  the  church  of  that  name, 
Christ  Church  College,  founded  by  Cardinal  Wolsey,  and 
onward  still  to  the  clear,  placid  Isis,  looking  more  like  a 
piece  of  artificial  water  than  a  river.  On  either  side  of  it 
are  boat-houses  belonging  to  the  celebrated  builder,  Salter, 
containing,  I  should  think,  hundreds  of  race-boats,  and 
pleasure-boats  of  every  description.  Resting  awhile  on 
Folly  bridge,  taking  in  the  beauty  of  the  scene,  for  a 
lovely  full  moon  was  now  silvering  the  silent  river,  I  suc- 
cumbed to  its  influence  and  descended  to  the  bank  of 
the  stream  on  the  opposite  side  and  walked  on  and  on, 
past  the  confluence  of  the  Cherwell  and  Thames,  to  the 
University  boat-house,  a  fine  large  building  on  this  bank. 
On  the  opposite,  or  town  side,  are  the  Christ  Church 
meadows,  with  their  riverside  and  broad  walks,  planted 
with  rows  of  noble  trees,  and  for  a  great  part  of  the  dis- 
tance the  shore  is  lined  with  the  beautiful  University 
barges,  their  interiors  elegantly  fitted  up  and  used  as 
reading  rooms,  and  it  appeared  to  me  hundreds  of  boats 
of  every  kind  and  dimension  for  racing  or  pleasure.  I 
confess  I  was  almost  entranced  with  the  beauty  of  the 
scene  and  night,  and  the  memories  conjured  up  by  this 
noted  spot,  when  it  suddenly  struck  me  that  I  was  behav- 
ing shabbily  to  M.,  and  I  retraced  my  steps,  getting  into 
St.  Aldgate  street  just  as  "  Great  Tom  "  began  to  toll  out 
101 !  as  it  does  every  night  at  five  minutes  past  nine, 
being  a  signal  for  closing  the  various  college  gates.  The 
bell  weighs  seven  and  a  half  tons,  and*  was  originally 
hung  in  Oxney  Abbey,  but  was  removed  here,  and  re-cast 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        191 

in  1680.  It  bears  this  inscription  :  "  Magnus  Thomas 
Clusius  Oxoniensis,  renatus  April  8,  1680"  ("Great  Tom, 
the  door-closer  of  Oxford,  renewed  April  8,  1680  ").  The 
number  of  strokes  by  the  bell  each  night  is  that  of  the 
scholars  on  the  foundation.  Making  my  peace  with  M., 
who,  with  her  usual  good  nature,  forgave  my  lapse  of 
manners,  I  retired,  feeling  we  had  enjoyed  a  never-to-be- 
forgotten  day. 

I  have  not  told  you  that  on  the  evening  of  our  arrival 
we  managed  to  find  time  to  see  the  picture  gallery  of 
Christ  Church,  with  many  specimens  of  the  best  masters, 
"  including  Gainsborough,  Holbein,  Kneller,  Lawrence, 
Lely,  Mengs,  Owen,  Reynolds,  Shee,  Vandyke,  Van  Loo, 
Walker,  Tucchero,"  etc.  And  on  the  morning  of  our 
departure  we  had  "  a  last  fond  look  "  and  stroll  over  part 
of  the  town  ere  leaving  for  London  by  fast  train  at  9  a.  m. 

Soon  we  arrive  at  the  pretty,  clean  town  of  Reading, 
on  the  confluence  of  the  rivers  Kennet  and  Thames,  their 
waters  being  covered,  as  in  every  other  place  in  England 
where  we  have  seen  rivers  of  any  size,  with  racing  and 
pleasure  boats.  Well  may  our  continental  neighbors  say 
we  are  a  web -footed  race. 

Nearing  this  town,  you  are  struck  with  the  wondrous 
blaze  of  colours  in  the  seed-grounds  of  Messrs.  Sutton  & 
Sons,  and  the  great  biscuit  factory  of  Messrs.  Huntley  & 
Palmer  —  the  latter  bringing  to  my  memory  the  Elgin 
Watch  Manufactory  before  you  enter  Chicago  from  the 
West.  Short  time  for  observation,  though  the  country 
through  which  we  are  passing  is  very  beautiful.  Soon 
the  stately  towers  of  Windsor  Castle  are  in  sight  with  the 
royal  standard  floating  from  the  keep.     Past  Slough,  and 


192        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

to  us  now  other  familiar  stations,  and  at  11  a.  m.  mighty 
London  once  more. 

In  the  afternoon  went  to  see  our  dear  old  friends  at 
Chelsea,  and  from  thence,  with  one  of  the  young  ladies 
as  a  guide,  to  the  "  Dogs'  Home,"  in  Battersea,  M.  having 
written  to  me  to  bring  her  an  English  dog  when  we  went 
to  France.  What  a  sight  it  was,  4;hose  hundreds  of  home- 
less dogs  picked  up  by  the  police  wandering  in  the  streets 
of  this  vast  metropolis.  The  animals  are  confined  in 
dens  or  cages  similar  to  those  of  a  menagerie,  and  the 
incessant  uproar  of  barking,  yelping  and  howling  is  almost 
deafening,  except  when  an  attendant,  armed  with  a  whip, 
puts  in  an  appearance,  walking  boldly  into  the  den,  and 
the  storm  of  noise  becomes  a  calm,  but  only  to  be  renewed 
immediately  his  back  is  turned.  Among  the  hundreds, 
and  they  were  many,  were  some  very  beautiful  dogs,  from 
lordly  mastiffs  and  St.  Bernards  down  to  toy  terriers, 
spaniels  and  pugs  —  English  dog-fanciers  don't  seem  to 
take  to  poodles — and  many  utterly  worthless  curs  of  no 
breed  at  all.  We  picked  out  as  our  choice  a  good  pug  and 
a  pretty  fox-terrier,  but  were  much  disappointed  on  learn- 
ing that  both  had  come  in  that  day,  and  could  not  be  sold 
until  three  days  had  expired,  so  as  to  give  their  owners  time 
to  reclaim  them.  If  not  claimed  the  best  dogs  are  sold 
after  the  lapse  of  that  time,  and  worthless  ones  quietly 
asphyxiated  in  a  room  specially  prepared  for  the  purpose, 
the  carcasses  being  sold  for,  I  suppose,  manure.  Next  day 
I  was  fortunate  enough  to  procure  a  very  beautiful  young 
fox-terrier  in  Leadenhall  Market,  the  seller  assuring  me 
it  was  "just  fresh  from  the  country,"  to  which  I  responded, 
"Pelapaha?" 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        193 

On  the  morning  of  the  30th  of  July,  dear  M's  birth- 
day, our  little  canine  friend  having  just  arrived  as  per 
agreement  with  his  former  owner — of  course  he  had  not 
been  previously  paid  for  —  we  left  the  Charing  Cross 
station  by  the  Southeastern  Railway  for  Folkestone,  at 
9:45  a.  m.  Running  down  through  fair  Kent,  past  Chisel- 
hurst,  residence  of  the  Empress  Eugenie,  Seven  Oaks, 
Tunbridge,  etc.,  we  arrive  before  noon  at  our  place  of 
embarkation,  with  its  long  lines  of  chalky  cliffs,  crowned 
with  Martello  towers  stretching  away  on  either  hand.  Of 
this  town  I  can  only  say  it  looked  pretty,  and  well  situated, 
for  our  steamer,  the  "  Princess  Beatrice,"  was  waiting  for 
us,  puffing  and  snorting  to  be  off,  so  our  baggage  being 
checked  through  to  Paris,  we  were  soon  on  board.  It  was 
a  beautiful  summer's  day,  and  the  u  silver  streak "  for 
which  Britons  ought  to  be  so  thankful,  smooth  and  pleas- 
ant, at  least  to  me.  M.  was  hardly  of  that  opinion.  I 
thought  Britannia  had  heard  the  cockney  schoolmaster's 
prayer,  and  as  she  ruled  the  waves  had  ruled  them  straight 
for  once  !  Soon  the  white  cliffs  faded  from  our  sight,  and 
Cape  Grisnez,  basking  in  the  sun,  was  in  view  ;  villages, 
churches,  farms,  growing  more  distinct  each  minute,  and 
before  2  p.  m.  we  are  running  up  past  the  long  pier  into 
the  harbour  of  Boulonge.  As  you  approach  it  from  the 
sea,  this  ancient  city  has  a  very  pretty  effect,  two  piers, 
between  which  you  enter — one  of  them  very  long,  and 
crowded  with  promenaders  on  the  arrival  of  the  English 
mail-boat,  the  great  event  of  the  day — run  out  into  the 
sea  and  form  the  harbour,  beside  which  there  is  a  floating 
dock.  There  are  two  towns,  upper  and  lower  ;  the  former 
with  its   cathedral  and  Hotel-de-ville,  is  built  upon  the 

13 


194         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

crest  and  side  of  the  hill  on  your  left.  It  was  formerly 
strongly  fortified,  but  the  citadel  was  destroyed  in  1690, 
and  the  ramparts  turned  into  promenades.  On  the  heights 
above,  from  which,  in  fair  weather,  the  English  coast  is 
visible,  the  Roman  Emperor  Caligula  once  assembled  a 
great  army  for  the  invasion  of  Britain  ;  eighteen  centuries 
later  the  Emperor  Napoleon  assembled  a  vaster  one  for  the 
same  purpose  ;  both  attempts  were  futile,  but  a  tall  marble 
shaft,  called  the  "  Colonne  Napoleone,"  perpetuates  the 
latter  event.  The  lower  town,  handsomely  and  regularly 
built,  stretches  from  the  upper  to  the  sea.  A  large  portion 
of  its  inhabitants  are  English,  with  several  English  churches 
and  schools.  The  sands  are  very  fine  and  the  sea-bathing 
excellent,  the  climate  genial  and  expense  of  living  moderate; 
all  these  good  things  combined,  account  for  the  large 
English  colony  resident  here.  Landing  on  the  bustling, 
crowded  quay  of  this  bright,  cheerful-looking  town,  it  was 
hard  to  realize  that  less  than  two  hours  ago  we  were  in 
England.  The  numerous  uniforms,  military  and  civil, 
crowds  of  well-dressed  loungers,  buxom  looking  fish- wives 
in  white  caps  and  short  petticoats,  and  stranger  still,  the 
unfamiliar  language  almost  confused  us.  I  was  glad  when 
we  were  addressed  in  English  by  an  unmistakable  Britisher, 
seeking  a  job  as  porter,  and  got  rid  of  some  of  our  small 
baggage.  I  took  the  "  wee  doggie  "  up  in  my  arms,  as  he 
was  constantly  entangling  his  chain  between  the  legs  of 
some  of  the  crowd,  and  off  we  set  for  the  railway  depot, 
across  a  perfect  network  of  rails,  and  were  nearly  knocked 
down  by  a  train  that  was  being  shunted,  causing  great 
fright  to  M.  and  a  vociferous  torrent  of  French  from  our 
attendant.     We  found  our  train  drawn  up  outside  a  large, 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         195 

rather  gloomy-looking  building,  and  were  struck  at  once 
with  the  great  height  of  the  carriages  from  the  ground, 
as  in  English  stations  the  platforms  are  nearly  level  with 
the  floor  of  the  car.  While  waiting  to  be  shown  which  was 
our  vehicle,  I  noticed  our  porter  in  most  animated  discus- 
sion with  an  official,  and  then  was  informed  by  him  that 
our  dog  must  be  muzzled  or  it  could  not  be  carried  on  the 
train.  I  pleaded,  "  'tis  such  a  little  one,  sir,"  or  offered  to 
pay  the  guard  for  taking  care  of  it,  as  on  the  other  side  of  the 
channel ;  all  to  no  purpose,  he  was  obdurate,  so  I  was 
forced  to  despatch  the  man  up  town  to  buy  the  indispens- 
able article.  A  little  later  a  high  official  came  along  and 
with  much  kindness  and  politeness  handed  M.  into  a  car- 
riage, telling  her  to  take  the  source  of  all  our  pilikia  on 
her  lap,  and  cover  him  with  her  mantle.  I  was  very 
thankful  for  this,  but  alas  !  the  detention  and  discussion 
had  prevented  our  getting  any  luncheon  ;  M.  was  not  well 
enough  to  eat  on  board  the  steamer,  where  all  kinds  of 
refreshments  are  obtainable,  and  you  can  get  your  Eng- 
lish money  changed  for  French,  or  vice  versa  —  so  that 
I  was  only  able  to  procure  a  few  very  nice  biscuits.  Just 
before  the  train  moved  off  our  messenger  returned  with  a 
dog-muzzle  big  enough  for  "  Bruno,"  the  dog  of  Montargis, 
or  to  put  our  little  fellow  into  bodily,  explaining  that  he 
had  "  run  half  over  the  town  and  could  not  get  a 
smaller."  Judging  from  his  red  face  and  furious  perspira- 
tion I  believed  him,  paid  him  for  his  trouble,  and  was 
thankful  to  feel  we  were  safely  off,  on  our  way  to  Paris. 
The  line  of  railway  on  which  we  are  travelling  is  splen- 
didly laid,  and  smooth  ;  the  carriages  easy,  luxurious, 
and  well  ventilated.    One  thing,  however,  struck  me  as 


196        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

capable  of  improvement;  I  refer  to  the  method  of  com- 
munication with  the  guard,  or  conductor;  instead  of  being 
by  means  of  a  cord  running  along  the  inside  of  the  cars, 
as  in  the  American  system  (which  is  the  best),  or  outside, 
as  in  England,  there  is  a  handle  attached  to  a  cord,  en- 
closed behind  a  small  triangular  piece  of  glass,  which 
must  be  broken  ere  you  can  give  the  alarm.  I  suppose 
the  idea  is  to  afford  time  for  reflection,  so  as  not  to  cause 
unnecessary  delays.  Fortunately  for  us,  the  sole  occu- 
pants of  our  carriage  except  ourselves,  were  an  American 
gentleman  who  seemed  to  know  all  Europe  well,  and  his 
son,  whom  he  was  going  to  take  on  a  continental  trip  ere 
entering  one  of  the  Oxford  colleges.  From  him  we 
received  much  information  on  our  route,  and  were  pleased 
with  his  courtesy  and  characteristic  remarks.  After  mov- 
ing off  slowly  through  the  gay  and  motley  groups  assem- 
bled near  the  quay  to  witness  the  arrival  and  departure 
of  the  English  mail-boats,  we  were  detained  for  some 
mfnutes  at  another  station,  and  then  dashed  off  for  our 
destination.  The  day  was  warm,  bright  and  sunny,  as 
indeed  all  our  surroundings  seemed  to  be  in  this  fair  land 
of  France.  The  track  for  some  distance  lies  over  low 
land  in  vicinity  of  the  sea,  of  which  we  caught  occasional 
glimpses  through  the  sand-dunes,  as  we  sped  smoothly 
along.  Soon  turning  more  inland  the  country  improves 
in  appearance,  though  flat  still,  but  lacking  the  many  fine 
trees,  hedges,  and  brilliant  green  of  an  English  landscape, 
with  the  soft  haze  usually  prevalent  there,  seemed  to  lie 
slumbering  in  the  warm  glare  of  the  summer's  afternoon. 
Some  of  the  towns  and  villages  we  passed  looked  very 
much   like    their   neighbours   on    the    other    side    "  La 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         197 

Manche,"  as  the  channel  is  called  here,  cozy  and  snug, 
with  pretty  surroundings,  the  small  churches  with  squat, 
square  towers,  surmounted  by  extinguisher-looking  roofs 
marking  the  chief  difference.  One  thing  that  struck  us 
much  was  the  absence  of  any  kind  of  fences  dividing  the 
land.  How  does  each  man  know  his  own  possessions,  or 
keep  his  animals  from  straying  or  trespassing  ?  It  seemed 
to  be  one  vast  expanse  of  highly  cultivated  plain,  with 
every  variety  of  crop,  many  to  us  unknown,  sown  or 
planted  in  alternate  strips  of  light  or  dark  green,  yellow, 
red  and  purple.  Occasionally  a  line  of  newly-plowed 
or  fallow  land  intervened,  and  when  the  country  sloped 
in  low  hills,  cultivated  from  their  summits  down  to  our 
fenceless  track,  the  effect  of  the  varied  colours,  like  so 
many  broad  ribbons  of  silk  or  satin,  was  very  pleasing 
indeed.  Long  lines  of  straight  poplars  marked  much  of 
the  way,  but  in  the  vicinity  of  towns  or  villages  the  trees 
are  more  varied  in  kind.  I  do  not  think  we  made  but 
one  stop  on  our  journey,  which  was  for  a  short  time  at  the 
ancient  city  of  Amiens,  in  a  rather  dingy  station  shut  out 
from  the  town  by  high  walls.  Apropos  of  that,  I  have 
remarked  as  a  curious  circumstance,  that  the  railway  sta- 
tions of  our  bright,  cheerful  neighbours  are  not,  as  a  rule, 
so  pretty  and  light,  nor  have  they  the  bustle  and  gaiety 
of  ours.  On  the  other  hand,  they  are  not  rendered  hideous 
by  "  Colman's  Mustard,"  u  Paris  Life  Pills,"  and  similar 
inscriptions.  Amiens  is,  I  believe,  a  very  fine  ancient 
town,  with  many  splendid  buildings,  and  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  Gothic  cathedrals — founded  in  1220 — in  Europe, 
of  which  we  caught  all  too  short  glimpses  in  passing. 
Continuing  our  journey,  deeply  interested  in  all  we  saw, 


198        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

the  country  becoming  greener,  villas  and  fine  residences 
more  numerous,  we  rapidly  near  the  beautiful  capital  of 
"La  Belle  France."  Some  miles  before  attaining  this 
I  was  surprised  to  see  men  cutting  and  stacking  peat — for 
fuel,  I  suppose — in  some  low,  marshy  land  we  passed 
through,  as  I  had  always  thought  this  practice  confined 
to  the  British  Isles.  Quickly  the  towers,  steeples  and 
buildings  of  Paris  begin  to  show  upon  the  horizon ;  our 
travelling  companion  points  out  to  us  the  line  of  green 
earthworks  surrounding  the  city,  with  different  prom- 
inent forts,  and  so  with  our  senses  in  a  perfect  whirl  of 
excitement,  and  ere  we  can  realize  the  fact  of  being  here, 
our  train  slacks  down  speed,  and  we  finally  come  to  a 
stand-still  in  the  huge  station  of  the  Chemin  de  fer  du  Nord, 
at  6:30  p.  m.  We  soon  distinguish  the  Professor  and  our 
daughter  M.  among  the  crowd  waiting  at  the  barrier 
where  the  baggage  is  to  be  examined  by  the  Customs 
authorities,  both  looking  remarkably  well,  and  their  faces 
beaming  with  welcome  and  pleasurable  excitement. 
The  luggage  is  soon  arranged  on  a  broad  horseshoe-shaped 
table,  marked  in  divisions  with  the  letters  of  the  alphabet, 
each  person's  being  within  their  initial  letter.  Numerous 
officers  are  in  attendance  to  examine  your  trunks,  etc., 
but  if  you  do  not  speak  French  it  is  apt  to  be  awkward, 
for  although  each  passenger  train  from  England  has  an 
uniformed  interpreter  go  through  with  it  all  the  way  to 
Paris,  or  vice  versa,  he  is  not  always  to  be  found  when 
wanted.  Fortunately  for  us  the  Professor  was  on  hand* 
and  the  presentation  of  his  card,  and  I  fancy  the  effect 
of  a  bit  of  purple  ribbon  in  the  button-hole  of  his  coat 
(these  things  go  a  long  way  in  France),  saved  us  from  a 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         199 

good  deal  of  pilikia,  for  we  had  somehow  or  other  lost  our 
keys  during  the  dog  episode  at  Boulogne.  All  was  quickly 
arranged  to  the  satisfaction  of  both  parties,  and  we  rolled 
away  over  the  stones  of  Paris  to  our  children's  home  in 
Passy.  It  was  a  long  drive,  being  almost  at  the  other 
extremity  of  the  city,  but  full  of  interest  from  the  strange 
sights  and  sounds  around  us.  Soon  we  were  in  the 
bosom  of  the  family  among  our  dear  grand-children,  two 
of  whom  we  had  never  before  seen,  and  others  grown  out 
of  recognition,  G.,  the  eldest,  having  actually  had  the 
audacity  to  grow  nearly  a  head  taller  than  his  grandsire. 
But  auwe  !  auwe  !  they  had  forgotten  their  noble  "  mother 
tongue,"  the  language  of  Chaucer,  Spenser,  Shakespeare 
and  Milton,  which  was  a  sad  drawback  to  us,  as  we  did 
not  speak  French,  and  prevented  our  full  expression  of  all 
we  would  have  liked  to  say  to  them,  and  they  to  us.  I 
leave  to  your  imagination  our  pleasurable  talk  far  into  the 
night,  of  old  reminiscences,  and  thankfulness  at  being 
permitted  to  meet  again  after  a  dozen  years  of  separation. 
Next  day  broke  bright  and  fair,  when,  stepping  out  through 
a  long  French  window  on  to  the  balcony  in  front  of  our 
room,  what  a  lovely  prospect  met  our  astonished  eyes ! 
To  make  you  comprehend  more  easily  our  siuation,  per- 
haps I  should  premise  that  the  houses  in  Paris  are  built 
in  stories  or  flats,  sometimes  even  up  to  seven  or  eight, 
each  entirely  distinct  from  the  one  above  or  below,  and 
occupied  by  different  families  ;  but  one  common  staircase, 
with  separate  landings,  off  which  the  doors  open  for  each, 
and  porter's  apartments  on  the  ground  floor,  where 
Madame  la  Concierge  is  always  in  attendance,  day  or 
night,  to  admit  or  let  out  the  various  tenants.     The  house 


200        OUR  P1LBRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

in  which  we  were  guests  was  a  very  handsome  one,  situ- 
ated at  the  corner  of  two  streets  in  the  delightful  suburb 
of  Passy.  Our  concierge,  living  in  a  sort  of  exaggerated 
glass  case  off  the  entrance  hall,  was  a  good  sort  of  old 
body,  with  a  good  opinion  of  her  own  importance ;  if  a 
monsieur  existed,  we  never  saw  him.  Our  apartments 
were  on  the  fourth  story,  and  attainable  only  by  sur- 
mounting eighty -three  steps  of  a  fine,  broad  staircase,  but 
an  awful  trial  to  poor  M.,  who  never  went  up  or  down 
more  than  once  a  day  if  she  could  possibty  avoid  it,  and 
then  relied  much  on  G's  strong  young  arm  and  good 
nature,  always  ready  to  help  grandma. 

Now  return  with  me  to  our  balcony,  and  what  a  scene 
lies  before  us  from  the  vantage  ground  on  which  the  street 
is  built  and  our  elevation  above  it.  More  than  two-thirds 
of  the  city  is  within  our  ken,  lying  principally  below  us. 
Near  at  hand  the  gilded  pinnacles  of  the  Trocadero,  sur- 
rounded by  their  beautiful  gardens  ;  farther  off  across  the 
river,  the  magnificent  dome  of  the  Invalides  reflecting  the 
morning  sun  from  its  gorgeous  convexity ;  between  us  and 
that  the  sandy  plains  of  the  Champ  de  Mars,  with  the 
Ecole  Militaire,  and  the  many  beautiful  spires,  palaces, 
boulevards  and  squares  of  this  fair  capital.  Through  it 
runs  the  Seine  from  southeast  to  southwest,  dividing  it 
into  two  unequal  halves,  the  largest  of  which  is  on  our 
side  ;  as  is  also  to  our  left,  and  not  far  off,  the  magnificent 
Bois  de  Boulogne ;  in  fact,  up  here  we  are  almost  in  the 
country.  Neither  of  us  feeling  very  well  and  having  much 
to  talk  of,  we  did  not  go  out  to-day,  but  made  very  frequent 
visits  to  our  balcony  to  enjoy  the  lovely  panorama  spread 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        201 

out  before   us,  and  thinking   how  fortunate   we  were   in 
living  in  such  a  charming  situation. 

The  first  mention  in  history  of  this,  one  of  the  most 
ancient  capitals  in  Europe,  is  by  Caesar  in  his  Commen- 
taries under  the  name  of  Lutetia  Parisiorum,  then  a 
mere  collection  of  mud-huts  on  islands  in  the  Seine, 
which,  as  I  told  you,  divides  the  modern  city  into  two 
parts,  and  forms  about  its  present  center  the  He  St. 
Louis  and  He  de  la  Cite,  where  no  doubt  the  tribes  of 
Parisii  dwelt  for  safety.  It  grew  slowly  under  Carlo vin- 
gian  kings  suffering  from  incursions  of  the  Northmen 
until  the  time  of  Hugh  Capet,  when  it  increased  rapidly 
in  wealth,  size  and  importance.  From  Henri  of  Navarre 
it  was  beautified  by  each  successive  Bourbon  monarch 
who  ruled  it,  but  on  a  grander  scale  by  the  first  Napoleon, 
for  his  nephew  Napoleon  III.  being  reserved  the  honor 
of  making  it  the  most  beautiful  capital  in  Europe.  The 
river  in  its  course  through  the  city  is  spanned  by  twenty- 
eight  bridges,  many  of  them  very  fine  structures  and 
beautifully  ornamented  with  sculpture,  and  military  and 
naval  trophies  in  bas  relief,  especially  those  erected  by  the 
Napoleons,  notably  Pont  de  la  Concorde,  Pont  du  Carrousel, 
Pont  d'Austerlitz,  Pont  d'Jena,  Pont  de  l'Alma  and  Pont 
de  Solferino.  Pont  Notre  Dame,  built  in  1500,  connects 
the  right  bank  of  the  river  with  the  He  de  la  Cite,  on 
which  the  magnificent  cathedral  of  that  name  is  erected. 
Lower  down  is  the  celebrated  Pont  Neuf,  built  by  Henry 
IV.  and  renovated  in  1852;  it  is  of  twelve  arches  and  abuts 
near  the  middle  on  a  small  peninsula  of  the  He  de  la  Cite 
which  here  juts  into  the  river  near  its  middle,  the  space 
above  being  planted  with  trees  and  having  a  fine  equestrian 


202         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

statue  of  Henry  IV.  The  river  is  embanked  for  its  entire 
course  through  the  city,  that  is  to  say,  ior  some  five  or  six 
miles  on  either  shore.  Fine  Quais  line  it  on  both  sides, 
planted  with  rows  of  stately  trees,  and  frequent  flights  of 
stone  steps  give  access  to  its  banks.  The  method  followed 
for  embanking  is  quite  different  to  that  adopted  on  the 
Thames,  where  massive  walls  of  dressed  stone,  surmounted 
by  a  parapet,  rise  perpendicularly  from  the  water  subject 
to  a  rise  and  fall  of  many  feet  of  tide.  Here  being  tideless, 
the  sides  of  the  stream  are  built  over  with  their  natural 
slope,  which  must  render  escape  very  difficult  to  any  un- 
fortunate who  chances  to  fall  in;  and  the  Quais  are  placed 
some  ieet  further  back  and  on  higher  level,  I  suppose  to 
allow  for  rising  of  the  river  in  rainy  seasons.  Taken 
altogether,  it  has  not  the  grand  effect  of  the  stately  embank- 
ment on  the  Thames,  and  another  cause  very  detrimental 
to  its  beauty  is  the  vast  array  of  bath-houses,  swimming- 
schools  and  wash-houses,  moored  in  long  tiers  up  and 
down  its  banks.  The  former  are  many  of  them  very  gay 
affairs,  especially  those  for  women,  with  a  good  deal  of 
ornamentation  in  the  way  of  pinnacles,  painting,  gilding 
and  small  flags.  The  latter,  like  the  former,  are  long 
structures  roofed  over  but  open  at  the  sides,  with  rows  of 
benches  and  tubs,  at  which  you  see  brawny,  bare-armed, 
and  I  think  bare-footed  women  incessantly  washing, 
pounding  and  beating  your  linen  to  their  heart's  content, 
getting  their  water  from  the  river  and  throwing  their  suds 
into  it.  During  our  visit  the  municipality  were  discussing 
the  advisability  of  removing  all  these  structures,  the  chief 
reason  being  they  were  in  the  way  of  the  numerous  river- 
boats,  and  I  would  add  detracting  much  from  its  beauty 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        203 

as  well  as  narrowing  the  water-course,  which  is  about  one- 
third  less  in  width  than  the  Thames  at  Westminster. 
The  river  steamboats,  whose  name  is  legion,  are  smaller 
in  size  than  the  London  boats,  and  narrow  in  proportion 
to  their  length.  They  are  all  propellers,  and  fussy  little 
affairs  they  are  too,  but  make  good  time. 

We  used  frequently  to  take  trips  on  them  up  or  down 
the  river,  as  it  afforded  splendid  views  of  the  different 
stately  edifices  on  its  banks,  and  excellent  opportunities 
for  observing  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  people. 
All  appear  lively,  good-tempered  and  loquacious,  but 
candor  forces  me  to  say  I  did  not  find  the  great  respect 
for  women  that  I  had  expected  ;  the  men  smoke  among 
them  on  the  boats,  and  take  the  wall  on  the  streets,  with- 
out compunction ;  not  a  bit  more  chivalrous  than  John 
Bull.  In  justice  to  the  officers  of  the  steamers  I  must 
say  they  are  very  polite  and  courteous,  and  if  they  do 
bump  them  rather  hard  against  their  floating  piers  some- 
times, what  they  lack  in  seamanship  is  made  up  in  brass 
buttons,  gold  lace,  and  gold-embroidered  anchors  on  their 
coats.  We  were  always  amused  in  our  passages  up  or 
down  the  Seine  by  the  number  of  anglers  ever  sitting 
hour  after  hour  upon  its  banks,  "  from  morn  till  dewy 
eve,"  and  apparently  catching  nothing,  at  least  I  never 
saw  them  do  so.  They  were  of  all  ages  and  conditions, 
from  ragged  little  urchins  with  most  primitive  rod-and- 
line,  to  the  blue-bloused  workman  better  equipped,  and 
well  dressed  individuals  armed  with  fine  tackle,  landing- 
net,  fish  basket,  and  all  the  paraphernalia  of  an  angler. 
Occasionally  a  woman  was  to  be  seen  among  them,  and 
they  occupied  all  points  of  vantage,  such  as  the  spars 


204        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

» 
used  to  shore  the  steamboat  landings  off  the  bank  or  the 
chains  that  moved  them  ;  some  individuals  bringing  with 
them  a  seat  arranged  to  fit  the  slope  of  the  bank,  fastened 
with  ropes  to  a  peg  in  the  earth  above.  One  day  M.  and 
I  commenced  to  count  them,  each  taking  one  side  of  the 
river  in  our  passage  down,  but  after  passing  a  few  bridges 
gave  it  up  when  the  number  exceeded  two  hundred. 
Well  might  the  Professor  ask  if  after  that  "  I  could  say  the 
French  were  not  a  patient  and  persevering  people?" 
Such  enthusiastic  fishermen  I  never  saw  before. 

The  broad  straight  streets  and  thoroughfares,  stately  bou- 
levards with  rows  of  trees  sometimes  as  many  as  six,  divid- 
ing them  into  roads  for  carriages,  horsemen  and  pedestrians, 
with  broad  pavements  on  either  side,  have  probably  not 
their  equal  in  the  world.  The  spacious  squares,  gardens, 
open  places,  ornamented  with  groups  of  statuary  and 
noble  fountains,  trees,  flowers,  lounging  seats,  with  every 
device  of  art  and  luxury  in  every  place  possible  to  put 
them,  combine  to  make  a  lovely  whole.  As  a  rule,  the 
houses  are  built  of  a  light  coloured  limestone  easily 
worked,  and  with  much  carving  and  ornamentation, 
almost  invariably  with  Mansard  roofs,  and  with  no  great 
variety  of  form,  which,  perhaps,  makes  it  look  a  good  deal 
like  a  toy  city,  or  one  built  to  order — the  long,  stiff  rows 
of  trees  in  the  streets  aiding  no  little  to  the  fancy — as  new 
Paris  of  which  I  am  speaking  really  was.  As  I  mentioned 
before,  the  houses  are  usually  very  high,  but  the  stories 
not  always  equal  in  height.  In  many  of  the  finest  streets 
the  ground-floor,  devoted  to  shops  or  magasins,  is  very 
lofty  and  handsome;  above  that  comes  the  entresol,  robbed 
of  its  proper  height,  being  probably  not  above  seven  feet 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         205 

• 
in  favour  of  the  lower  story.  Above  that  again  the  apart- 
ments resume  their  fair  proportions,  and  are  occupied  by 
a  better  class  of  tenants  than  the  entresol,  which,  judging 
from  what  I  have  seen,  is  usually  peopled  by  lace  workers, 
artificial  flower  makers,  seamstresses,  clear-starchers,  and 
folks  of  that  class  ;  this  arrangement  detracting,  in  my 
opinion,  from  its  otherwise  stately  effect.  Of  the  splendid 
shops  for  the  sale  of  every  conceivable  article  of  use, 
luxury,  or  beauty  under  the  sun,  I  do  not  feel  at  all  com- 
petent to  speak,  but  the  richness  of  the  jewellers  in  the 
Palais  Royal,  the  bric-a-brac  magasins  of  the  Rue  de 
Rivoli,  and  the  thousand-and-one  novelties  of  the  Bon 
Marche  and  Louvre,  were,  I  must  confess,  sources  of  pleasure 
and  amusement  I  cannot  do  justice  to.  The  scrupulous 
cleanliness  of  the  streets  was  a  constant  source  of  surprise 
to  me  ;  I  had  thought  the  London  streets,  where  men  and 
boys  are  employed  with  brushes  and  dust-pans  to  gather 
up  the  droppings  of  the  horses,  were  clean,  but  these 
exceed  even  that.  Beside  being  thoroughly  watered  and 
swept,  the  kennels  are  every  morning  copiously  flushed 
with  water,  which  runs  off  through  low-arched  apertures 
in  the  curb  under  the  pavement  to  the  main  sewers 
below  the  street.  The  vaulted  sewers  of  Paris  are  said  to 
extend  in  their  different  ramifications  for  two  hundred 
and  fifty  miles,  and  are  considered  among  the  great  sights 
of  the  city  ;  all  we  saw  of  them  was  some  of  their  cavernous 
mouths  where  they  emptied  into  the  river.  Every  thor- 
oughfare is  kept  plentifully  sprinkled  with  water  in  this 
warm  summer  weather,  not  by  water-carts  as  with  us,  but 
large  hoses  with  numerous  pairs  of  small  wheels  attached 
to  them  underneath,  are  screwed  on  to  a  fire-plug   and 


206        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

easily  handled  by  one  man,  being  by  that  device  moved 
as  requisite. 

Of  the  many  restaurants,  cafes,  confectionery  and  ice- 
cream shops  you  have  read  and  heard  so  much  that  I 
will  not  dilate  upon  them,  though  they  occupy  most  of 
the  lower  stories  in  many  of  the  best  streets.  Certainly 
the  cafes  in  particular  are  a  very  marked  feature  of 
French  or  Parisian  life,  in  this  warm,  fair  summer  weather, 
when  the  people  live  so  much  out  of  doors.  The  broad 
pavements  in  front  of  them,  covered  with  an  awning,  and 
lightly  sprinkled  with  saw-dust,  are  plentifully  supplied 
with  small  round  tables  arid  chairs,  at  which  gay  groups 
of  two  or  more  are  seen  sipping  their  eau-sucre,  absinthe, 
Grogs  Americaine,  bocks  of  light,  pleasant,  foaming  bier 
^guiltless  of  malt,  I  fancy),  and  other  to  me  incomprehen- 
sible beverages,  chatting,  laughing  and  seeming  to  be 
utterly  unconscious  of  observation  or  of  being  in  a  crowded 
public  thoroughfare.  It  rather  grates  on  your  ideas  of 
the  "  proprieties  "  at  first,  but  'tis  astonishing  how  soon 
you  fall  into  the  custom,  and  think  it  a  very  pleasant 
thing  to  do.  Sometimes  parties  may  be  seen  partaking 
of  solids,  as  well  as  fluids,  so  fond,  are  Parisians  of  this 
al  fresco  sort  of  life. 

The  gar  con  having  taken  your  order,  soon  returns  with 
it,  bringing  small  wooden  footstools  for  the  ladies  of  the 
party,  and  a  pile  of  little  earthen  plats,  similar  to  those 
used  for  butter  in  Americen  households.  I  was  puzzled 
as  to  what  they  were  for,  and  found  they  were  the  means 
by  which  he  kept  his  score,  one  being  added  for  any  mem- 
ber of  the  party  whenever  their  glass  was  refilled.  Another 
novelty  to  the  ordinary  American  or  English  stranger,  is 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         207 

the  great  number  of  Vespasiennes  and  Kiosks,  pretty  orna- 
mental towers  erected  in  the  better  and  broader  streets, 
covered  with  advertisements,  some  of  them  really  artistic, 
the  latter  usually  occupied  by  a  good-looking  girl  selling 
newspapers  and  light  literature. 

The  means  of  locomotion  are  much  the  same  as  in 
other  large  cities,  but  they  have  no  vehicle  that  can  at 
all  compare  with  the  London  Hansom  Cab,  and  they 
even  are  not  as  good  or  elegantly  fitted  as  their  Chicago 
types.  The  ordinary  carriage  is  a  four-wheeled  affair, 
not  like  a  "growler,"  but  with  only  one  seat  for  two 
persons,  and  a  small  flap  that  can  be  turned  down  in 
extremities,  affording  a  narrow  uncomfortable  space  for 
one  more.  As  a  rule  they  are  very  poorly  horsed,  fre- 
quently the  animal  falling  in  the  streets  ;  but  then 
the  fares  are  low,  I  think  almost  too  low,  being  about  the 
only  cheap  thing  I  noticed  in  Paris,  and  even  that  is  in 
some  measure  made  up  by  your  driver,  with  the  invari- 
able black  or  white  glazed  hat  like  an  inverted  coal  scut- 
tle, always  expecting  a  pour  boire.  For  the  street  tram- 
cars  and  omnibuses  I  have  nothing  but  praise,  especially 
the  latter.  They  are  well  built,  commodious,  and  easy;  to 
prevent  crowding,  every  individual's  allotted  space  (which 
is  regulated  by  law),  being  separated  from  his  neigh- 
bour's by  a  brass  arm  or  rail.  They  are  finely  horsed, 
each  having  three  noble  animals,  always  of  the  same 
colour,  driven  abreast  after  the  manner  of  the  ancient 
Roman  chariot,  the  drivers  being  skilful,  the  attendants 
])olite,  and  ticket  arrangements  perfect. 

Of  the  denizens  of  these  fine  streets  I  have  not  much  to 
write,  the  better  dressed  portion  of  them  being  like  their 


208        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

compeers  in  any  other  city,  only  perhaps  a  little  gayer ; 
the  gommeux  or  dandies,  as  their  brother  dudes  or  mashers  in 
America  or  England,  but  with  the  rims  of  their  hats  so 
tightly  curled  up,  I  fancy  it  must  make  their  heads  ache. 
The  artisan  class  are  almost  invariably  clad  in  blouse  and 
flat  cap  ;  their  wives,  short  petticoated,  usually  hatless  or 
bonnetless,  but  with  close  muslin  caps,  and  carrying  the  in- 
dispensable large  wicker  basket.  Of  the  grisette  of  the  Rev. 
Lawrence  Sterne,  and  other  writers,  I  saw  nothing ;  mayhap 
the  species  is  extinct,  or  in  the  course  of  evolution  devel- 
oped into  something  gayer  still.  The  femme  de  boulangerie, 
or  bread  merchant,  with  a  huge  wheelbarrow — nearly  as 
large  as  a  hand-cart — filled  with  long  loaves  of  bread 
looking  something  like  so  many  sticks  of  fire-wood,  and 
supported  by  a  leathern  strap  over  her  shoulders,  was  a 
"  nu  hou  "  to  us.  As  also  was  the  itinerant  Marchand,  de 
Coco,  with  his  shining  brass  reservoir  surmounted  by  a 
figure  of  Fame,  or  Victory,  and  adorned  with  tri-coloured 
flags,  strapped  securely  to  his  back,  but  his  beverage  I 
never  tried.  The  nurses,  too,  of  this  gay  city  deserve  a 
passing  mention  as  atoms  of  the  motley  crowd ;  no  insig- 
nificant ones  in  their  own  esteem,  take  my  word  for  it. 
They  love  to  perambulate  up  and  down  in  the  shady 
boulevards,  or  under  the  awnings  of  the  cafes,  with  a  little 
bundle  of  mortality  smothered  in  fine  lace,  and  gay  gar- 
ments in  their  arms,  themselves  being  gorgeous  in  frilled 
apron  and  wonderfully  constructed  cap,  from  which  long 
streamers  of  broad,  bright  coloured  ribbons  hang  down 
behind  to  their  very  heels.  Add  to  these  the  innumer- 
able militaires  in  every  conceivable  uniform,  some  of  which 
are  exceedingly  handsome,  and  all  with  bright  sun  and 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        209 

blue  sky  overhead,  good  humour  apparently  prevalent 
everywhere,  and  perhaps  you  may  be  able  to  form  some 
idea  of  the  impression  made  on  us. 

You  would  be  amused,  too,  with  the  pictorial  signs  or 
representations  of  what  they  have  for  sale  within,  orna- 
menting the  fronts,  door-jambs  and  counters  of  the  differ- 
ent shops.  The  charcuterie  or  pork-shops,  embellished 
with  paintings  of  sucking  pigs,  hams,  sausages,  etc.  ;  the 
Marchand  de  poisson,  or  fish-mongers,  with  red-mullet, 
cray-fish,  oysters  and  salmon  ;  game-shops  with  pheasants, 
partridge  and  peacocks,  illustrated  by  "  finny  monsters  of 
the  deep,"  or  "  feathered  songsters  of  the  grove,"  as  our 
genial  friend  used  to  say.  Thus  on  through  the  long  list; 
even  to  the  shops  where  fire-wood  is  sold,  with  artistic 
representations  of  the  commodity  arranged  in  arches  or 
grottoes.  And  mind  you,  some  of  these  are  by  no  means 
to  be  despised,  as  decorations,  being  interspersed  with 
flowers  and  arabesques,  and  almost  claiming  position  as 
"  works  of  art." 

I  have  not  mentioned  our  own  compatriots,  who  make 
no  inconsiderable  portion  in  every  crowd,  but  not  of  it.  M. 
used  indignantly  to  remark  that  "the  English  people 
seemed  to  come  to  Paris  to  wear  their  old  clothes  out, 
thinking  anything  apparently  good  enough  for  it."  And 
really,  I  must  confess  that  the  plain  dresses,  flat  hats  and 
strong  walking  shoes  of  our  fair  country  women  do,  in 
some  measure,  deserve  her  strictures ;  but  their  lovely 
complexions,  fine  forms  and  quiet,  unobtrusive  manners 
make  you  almost  blind  to  it.  Of  the  British  youth  in 
flannel  shirts  and  knickerbockers  or  rough  tweed  suit, 
billy-cock  hat,  brier  pipe  in  mouth,  and  big  stick  in  hand, 

14 


210         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

who  loves  to  display  his  manly  form  in  the  Boulevard  de 
la  Madeline,  Boulevard  des  Italiens  or  Rue  de  Rivoli,  I 
am  no  champion — he  can  take  care  of  himself.  Still  the 
inexplicable  fact  remains,  and  it  is  a  puzzle  to  me  also, 
why  people  should  dress  in  picnic  or  country  attire  in 
the  gayest  capital  of  Europe. 

After  all  this  desultory  talk  of  the  gay  city  and  light- 
hearted  race  inhabiting  it,  I  suppose  you  would  like  to 
know  what  we  did  while  making  part  of  its  population. 
Our  first  day  I  have  already  accounted  ior,  excepting  I 
forgot  to  mention  that  in  the  cool  of  the  evening  we 
strolled  through  a  few  of  the  adjacent  shady  streets  with 
very  handsome  villa  residences,  among  them  that  formerly 
occupied  by  Lamartine,  into  the  pleasure-grounds  of  La 
Muette. 

Resting  here  awhile,  watching  the  children  at  play  in 
the  delicious  summer  evening  air,  Ave  too  enjoying  it  much, 
thence  crossed  the  Boulevard  Suchet,  just  within  the  line 
of  fortifications,  into  the  magnificent  Bois  de  Boulogne, 
where,  after  a  short  rest  and  long  admiration  of  the  many 
fine  equipages  present,  we  resumed  our  homeward  track 
by  the  Avenue  de  Victor  Hugo,  charmed  with  our  first 
experience  of  Paris.  Now  repeating  that  we  seldom  faced 
the  stairs  more  than  once  a  day,  come  with  us  in  our 
rambles,  bearing  in  mind  that  when  I  use  the  pronoun  we 
I  mean  the  Prof.  1VL,  M.  and  the  writer,  unless  otherwise 
expressed.  The  weather  being  lovely,  we  went,  as  was  our 
wont  in  London,  on  top  of  tram-car  and  omnibus,  to  see 
the  streets  and  street  life  of  the  beautiful  city,  being  vastly 
pleased  and  amused' with  all.  We  alighted  in  the  splendid 
and   spacious   Place  de  la  Concorde,  which   connects  the 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         211 

Gardens  of  the  Tuileries  with  the  Champs  Elysees,  afford- 
ing on  all  sides  a  magnificent  view  of  some  of  the  finest 
buildings  and  gardens  of  Paris.  It  is  of  great  extent  and 
has  two  magnificent  fountains,  decorated  with  Tritons  and 
allegorical  figures,  throwing  fine  jets  of  water  to  a  great 
height.  At  one  of  them  I  saw  an  unmistakable  Briton 
cooling  himself  in  the  usual  phlegmatic  manner  of  his 
nation,  by  washing  his  head  and  face  on  this  warm  summer 
day.  At  regular  intervals  around  the  vast  square — as  we 
should  term  it — are  rostral  columns  and  eight  pavilions, 
surmounted  by  colossal  female  figures  symbolical  of  the 
chief  towns  of  France,  the  one  representing  Strasbourg 
being  invariably  covered  with  votive  wreaths  of  immortelles 
and  tri-coloured  flags  draped  in  crape.  In  the  center  is 
the  obelisk  of  Luxor,  standing  on  the  site  of  the  revolution- 
ary guillotine,  where  perished  the  unfortunate  Louis  XVI., 
Marie  Antoinette,  Phillip  Egalite,  Danton,  Robespierre 
and  hosts  of  the  two  latter's  victims.  It  seemed  almost 
incredible,  looking  at  the  fair  scene  around,  with  its  gay 
moving  panorama  of  well-dressed  men  and  women,  smiling 
and  happy,  and  the  serene  blue  sky  overhead,  that  such 
horrors  were  possible.  And  yet,  gazing  down  the  vista  of 
the  Quai  de  Tuileries  to  the  bare  space  where  the  beauti- 
ful palace  of  that  name  once  stood,  and  remembering  the 
horrors  of  the  Commune  and  the  wanton  burning  of  it 
and  many  another  of  the  finest  edifices  of  Paris,  we  are 
forced  almost  to  paraphrase  the  first  Napoleon's  epigram  as 
to  a  Russian  and  Cossack  and  say,  "  Scratch  the  civilized 
man  and  you  will  find  a  savage."  Embarking  at  the  Pont 
de  la  Concorde  on  a  small  steamer  or  hirondelle,  we  passed 
rapidly  down  the  river,  feasting  our  eyes  with  the  beauties 


212        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

on  its  banks ;  passed  Pont  des  Invalides,  Pont  de  l'Alma, 
Pont  d'Jena,  landing  at  Pont  de  Passy,  an  iron  structure 
for  pedestrians,  and  from  thence  strolling  leisurely  home 
in  the  cool  air  of  the  evening  full  of  admiration  and 
wonder.  The  Pont  d'Jena,  built  by  the  first  emperor,  is  a 
noble  bridge  of  five  arches  with  beautifully  sculptured 
imperial  eagles  as  ornaments,  and  at  each  end  of  the  para- 
pet walls  colossal  groups  of  men  struggling  with  wild 
horses.  From  it  a  fine  view  is  obtained  of  the  Palais  du 
Trocadero  and  grounds  on  the  one  side,  and  on  the  other 
of  the  Champ  de  Mars  and  Ecole  Militaire. 

Sunday  in  Paris  was  not  to  us  a  satisfactory  sort  of 
day,  the  English  churches  were  either  too  distant,  their 
services  at  hours  interfering  with  domestic  arrangements, 
or  some  other  pilikia,  and  consequently  much  to  our  regret 
no  attendance  on  divine  worship.  We  missed,  too,  the 
sweet  chiming  of  the  church  bells,  the  absence  of  which, 
with  the  constant  noise  of  carts  in  the  streets,  cries  of 
vendors  of  different  articles,  and  sight  of  carpenters  and 
masons  at  work  on  a  new  house  directly  opposite  to  us, 
so  unlike  the  calm  quiet  of  an  English  Sunday,  is  diffi- 
cult to  get  accustomed  to.  No  doubt  folks  do  in  time;  in 
fact,  I  think  we  leant  somewhat  that  way  before  we  left, 
for  we  needs  must  do  in  Rome  as  Romans  do.  Most  of 
the  shops  in  the  best  streets  are  closed,  but  the  theatres, 
restaurants,  cafes,  and  exhibitions  of  all  kinds  it  is  a  grand 
day  for.  No  wonder  continentals  find  fault  with  the  dull- 
ness of  the  English  Sunday  ;  I  think  we  may  learn  some- 
thing from  them,  especially  in  favour  of  our  hard- worked 
artisan  class,  but  I  would  not  like  to  see  them  do  as  their 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        213 

French  brother  does,  work  all  Sunday,  and  drink  and  idle 
all  the  Monday. 

One  day  noticing  a  large  French  flag  floating  from  the 
roof  of  the  above  mentioned  building,  I  found  it  signified 
the  completion  of  the  same,  and  that  it  was  usual  on  such 
occasions  for  the  owner  to  give  the  workmen  who  had 
been  employed  on  it,  a  feast  in  honor  of  the  event. 

To  resume  :  M.  having  tickets  we  accompanied  her 
to  see  the  laying  of  the  foundation  stone  of  the  new 
Sorbonne,  and  distribution  of  prizes  to  successful  students 
in  the  different  Lycees  of  France.  The  Professor  had 
gone  previously  to  be  present  in  his  official  capacity. 
This  institution  was  founded  by  Robert  Sorbon  in  1253, 
subsequently  endowed  and  enlarged  by  Cardinal  Richelieu, 
for  the  iaculties  of  the  old  university  of  Paris.  It  is  a 
fine  old  pile,  containing  lecture  halls  and  class  rooms,  in 
one  of  which  I  heard  a  poor  student  of  English  one  day 
terribly  badgered  over  a  passage  from  the  Spectator,  "  I 
say  that  that  that  that  gentleman  has  advanced  is  not," 
etc. ;  no  one  would  write  such  a  sentence  now.  It  has 
also  a  large  library  open  to  the  public,  but  the  college  not 
being  of  sufficient  capacity  for  the  growing  requirements 
of  the  nation,  this  splendid  building  with  all  modern  im- 
provements is  being  erected.  The  ceremony  took  place 
in  a  vast  amphitheatre  built  for  the  occasion,  profusely 
decorated  with  flags  inside  and  out,  and  covered  with  a 
canvas  awning,  which  served  to  keep  off  the  direct  rays 
of  old  Sol,  but  not  much  of  his  fervent  heat.  A  splendid 
military  band  was  in  attendance,  and  played  a  beautiful 
selection  of  tunes  ere  the  ceremony  began,  and  while  the 
vast  space  was  filling  with  a  gay  crowd  of  the  scholars' 


214        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

relatives  and  friends.  The  pupils  themselves,  many  of 
them  being  in  the  uniform  of  their  particular  Lycee,  filled 
the  benches  in  the  lower  central  floor.  Soon  the  band 
struck  up,  and  a  grand  procession  of,  I  thought,  most  of 
the  dignitaries  of  France,  in  gorgeous  uniform,  and  caps 
and  gowns  of  red,  yellow,  blue  and  purple,  began  to  pile 
in  and  fill  the  seats  allotted  to  them.  These  were  pro- 
fessors in  different  colleges  and  Lycees,  and  we  soon  dis- 
covered our  particular  Professor  among  them.  The  spec- 
tacle of  so  many  fine-looking  men  in  gown  and  hat — the 
latter  in  shape  a  good  deal  like  the  Tudor  hat  of  the 
Tower  Beef-eaters — mingled  with  other  official  costumes 
and  military  and  naval  uniforms,  was  very  imposing. 
The  meeting  was  presided  over  by  the  Minister  of  Public 
Instruction,  and  the  principal  prizes  distributed  by  him. 
They  were  very  numerous,  for  of  course  the  number  of 
pupils  was  great,  and  consisted  for  the  most  part  of  valu- 
able looking  books,  but  in  some  instances  of  laurel 
wreaths,  often  awkwardly  received  and  carried  in  the 
hand,  not  placed  on  the  head,  nor  acknowledged  with  the 
naturally  graceful  bow  a  native  Hawaiian  youth  would 
have  made.  Being  ignorant  of  the  language  was  of  course 
a  great  drawback  to  our  interest  in  the  proceedings,  and 
a  return  into  the  open  air  grateful  after  the  heat  of  the 
place.  The  street  was  lined  on  both  sides  with  a  splendid 
display  of  military — Cuirassiers  with  glittering  breast- 
plates, back-pieces  and  helmets,  from  which  depended 
large  plumes  of  black  horse-hair,  nobly  mounted  on  fine 
black  animals — Zouaves  in  their  peculiarly  gay  uniforms, 
and  soldiers  of  line  infantry  in  the  colours  of  their  respect- 
ive regiment.      Tall  Venetian  masts  supported  numerous 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        215 

banners,  other  flags  were  in  great  profusion,  and  the 
crowded  street  was  altogether  gay  with  brilliancy  and 
colour.  Soon  we  sought  the  pleasant  shade  of  a  cafe  awn- 
ing, and  revelled  in  the  cooling  draught  of  a  bock  of  light 
refreshing  Parisian  beer,  so  grateful  to  the  palate  and 
not  intoxicating.  You  see  it  does  not  take  long  to  get  into 
French  ways,  and  many  of  them  are  very  pleasant,  though 
seeming  strange  at  first.  After  resting  awhile  we  returned 
to  Passy  by  the  river,  enjoying  its  coolness,  and  having 
had  a  most  interesting  day. 

The  following  morning  I  accompanied  the  ladies  of  our 
party  "  down  town,"  where  they  had  some  shopping  to  do 
at  the  noted  Bon  Marche,  and  was  much  struck  with  the 
beauty  of  the  Palace  of  the  Louvre,  and  its  noble  front  on 
the  Quai  of  that  name.  What  a  truly  regal  and  magnifi- 
cent line  of  building  it  must  have  been  when  connected 
with  the  Palace  of  the  Tuileries,  as  it  was  by  Louis  Napo- 
leon, in  one  vast  whole,  and  ere  the  wanton  destruction  of 
the  latter,  burned  by  the  demoniac  Communists  !  Another 
gaping  ruin,  the  work  of  the  same  infuriate  wretches,  is 
that  of  the  Cour  des  Comptes,  on  the  Quai  d'Orsay,  on  the 
opposite  bank  of  the  river.  The  Tuileries  was  begun  by 
Catherine  de  Medici  in  1566,  and  used  as  a  royal  residence  ■ 
up  to  the  time  of  its  destruction.  It  was  nearly  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  in  length,  fronting  on  the  Seine,  and  very  beau- 
tiful. To  the  eastward,  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  dis- 
tant, was  the  Palace  of  the  Louvre,  long  used  as  a  museum 
of  antiquities  and  picture  galleries,  also  facing  the  river. 
Between  them  lay  a  mass  of  narrow,  squalid  streets,  the 
removal  of  which  and  connection  of  the  two  palaces  into 
one  magnificent  whole,  was  one  of  the  earliest  of  Napoleon 


216        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

III.'s  improvements,  resulting  in  the  most  splendid  pala- 
tial structure  in  the  world.  Fortunately  the  Louvre  was 
saved,  with  its  priceless  treasures  of  Egyptian,  Greek  and 
Roman  antiquities,  but  the  library  with  its  contents  was 
burned.  I  cannot  give  you  any  adequate  idea  of  the 
beaut}T  of  the  river  facade  of  this  edifice,  so  rich  in  sculp- 
ture and  ornamentation  of  every  kind,  with  frieze,  cornice 
and  entablature,  not  forgetting  the  chimneys,  all  of  such 
elegant  design  ;  nor  of  the  Place  du  Carrousel  adjoining 
it,  with  the  Arc  de  Triomphe  built  by  the  first  emperor, 
adorned  with  statues  of  soldiers  of  the  time,  bas-reliefs  of 
battles,  etc.,  and  surmounted  by  a  bronze  group  represent- 
ing a  car  drawn  by  four  horses,  directed  by  a  female  figure. 
The  Louvre  was  originally  a  fortress  built  by  Philip 
Augustus,  and  in  the  inner  court  white  lines  traced  on  the 
black  asphalte  portray  exactly  the  plan  of  the  former 
stronghold.  Subsequently  enlarged  and  beautified  by 
many  sovereigns  of  France,  down  even  to  Napoleon  III. 
One  colonnade  faces  the  Church  of  Saint  Germain  l'Aux- 
errois,  from  which,  on  the  24th  of  August,  1572,  rang  out 
the  signal  for  the  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew,  and  at  a 
window  fronting  the  river  sat  the  miserable  Charles  IX. — 
abject  tool  of  his  execrable  mother  Catherine  de  Medicis — 
fowling-piece  in  hand,  firing  on  his  Protestant  subjects 
flying  in  terror  through  the  streets,  or  plunging  in  vain 
hopes  of  escape  into  the  river.  Poor  wretch,  he  died  a 
victim  to  remorse  and  horror  of  this  day  two  years  later, 
at  the  early  age  of  twenty -four.  And  for  the  consumma- 
tion of  this  awful  deed  of  blood  the  pious  Gregory  XEIL 
wer^t  in  solemn  procession  to  return  thanks,  and  struck  a 
medal  in  honour  of  the  event.      With  the  historian  of 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD   WORLD.        217 

France  I  sometimes  wonder,  "  Has  that  medal  been  yet 
thrown  out  of  the  collection  of  the  Vatican  and  broken  to 
pieces  by  the  hangman's  ax?"  To  the  eastward  of  the 
vacant  space  formerly  occupied  by  the  palace,  is  the  Jar- 
din  des  Tuileries,  open  to  the  public,  and  connecting  with 
the  Champs  Elysees  by  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  makes 
one  of  the  most  lovely  scenes  imaginable.  The  garden  is 
of  vast  extent,  stretching  about  2,400  feet  along  the  Quai 
des  Tuileries,  and  1,000  feet  in  width,  having  an  area  of 
seventy-five  acres.  It  is  terraced  to  the  north  and  south, 
laid  out  beautifully  in  walks  shaded  with  lime  and  horse- 
chestnut  trees,  superb  flower  gardens,  tennis  court,  an 
orangery,  and  every  device  that  art  and  skill  can  imagine 
to  make  it  beautiful.  Splendid  statuary  in  groups  and 
single  figures,  both  of  bronze  and  marble,  mostly  classic 
or  from  the  antique,  adorns  every  part  of  it,  the  names 
even  of  which  would  fill  a  catalogue,  but  all  are  chaste 
and  graceful. 

One  afternoon,  with  my  grandsons  G.  and  T.  as  guides, 
the  former  improving  in  his  English  fast,  we  strolled  down 
to  the  grounds  and  gardens  of  the  Palais  du  Trocadero, 
built  for  the  International  Exhibition  of  1878.  It  is 
erected  on  the  height  of  the  Trocadero,  looking  across  the 
Seine,  over  the  Pont  d'Jena  to  the  Champ  de  Mars,  and 
from  its  site  a  most  perfect  panoramic  view  of  great  part 
of  the  city  is  obtained.  In  form  it  is  a  large  crescent  con- 
sisting of  two  galleries,  one  above  the  other,  supported  on 
fine  arches,  with  promenades  on  both,  where  refreshments 
can  be  had,  as  in  all  such  places  in  Paris.  In  the  center 
is  the  Salle  des  Fetes,  surmounted  by  a  large  dome  on 
which  stands  a  colossal  gilt  figure  of  Fame.     Two  tall 


218        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

octagonal  towers  with  gilded  pinnacles  flank  the  central 
part  of  the  building,  and  add  much  to  its  beauty.  The 
eastern  one  contains  a  lift  or  elevator — the  only  one  I  saw 
here — but  it  was  out  of  order  and  so  we  were  not  able  to 
enjoy  the  splendid  prospect  said  to  be  visible  from  its 
summit.  The  main  building  containing  the  different 
museums  and  for  entrance  to  which  no  fee  is  paid,  is  of 
various  coloured  bricks,  laid  in  different  designs  and  pat- 
terns, and  adorned  with  symbolical  figures  of  industry, 
arts  and  sciences,  the  colonnades,  grand  central  struct- 
ure and  flanking  towers  being  of  the  light-coloured  stone 
generally  used  for  such  purposes  in  Paris.  In  front  is  a 
fine  fountain  and  cascade,  down  the  sides  of  which  mas- 
sive flights  of  stone  steps  lead  into  the  lovely  gardens  and 
grounds.  The  former  are  rich  in  every  variety  of  flower 
you  can  mention,  and  the  latter  contain  almost  endless 
labyrinthine  walks  shaded  by  noble  trees,  sparkling 
streams  and  pretty  water-falls,  on  a  rustic  bench  beside 
which  you  may  pleasantly  while  away  a  half-hour.  We 
saw  here  growing  in  the  open  air,  kalo  and  banana  plants, 
red  and  white  oleanders,  and  the  scarlet  hibiscus — the 
three  latter  flowering  beautifully.  In  one  part  of  the 
grounds,  partly  natural  and  partly  excavated  out  of  the 
soft  limestone  with  much  skill,  is  a  very  fine  subterranean 
aquarium,  well  stocked  with  fresh -water  fish,  and  which 
afforded  the  boys  and  myself  a  good  deal  of  pleasure.  Of 
the  very  excellent  museum,  with  its  stores  of  treasures  in 
art,  antiquity  and  curiosities — which  we  all  visited  on  a 
subsequent  day — I  spare  you  any  attempt  at  description, 
being  much  like  similar  things  in  other  places.  These 
charming  grounds,  being  at  but  a  short  distance  from  our 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        219 

residence  in  the  Rue  de  la  Tour,  were  often  visited  by  us 
in  the  summer  evenings,  affording  as  they  did,  such  a 
beautiful  view  of  the  city,  a  pleasant  lounging  place,  and 
cool  walk  back  through  the  noble  Boulevard  du  Trocadero. 
On  another  occasion,  with  the  same  youthful  guides,  I 
started  for  a  visit  to  the  celebrated  Arc  de  Triomphe  de 
l'Etoile,  and  as  our  intention  was  to  go  to  its  summit  M. 
did  not  accompany  us.  This  magnificent  arch,  which 
stands  on  the  avenue  between  the  lovely  gardens  and 
grounds  of  the  Champs  Elysees,  now  so  rich  in  profusion 
of  flowers,  shrubs,  gay  kiosks,  etc.,  on  the  one  hand,  and 
on  the  other  of  the  Avenue  de  la  Grande  Armee,  was 
built  by  the  first  Napoleon  to  commemorate  his  victories 
over  the  Austrians  and  Prussians,  and  to  signalize  the 
entry  into  Paris  of  Marie  Louise,  his  affianced  bride.  It 
is  a  noble  structure,  standing  in  the  center  of  the  Place, 
having  one  grand  central  arch  and  forming  a  transept  in 
the  middle,  with  smaller  arches  on  the  sides.  The  cen- 
tral arch  is  ninety  feet  high  and  the  total  height  of  the 
structure  152  feet.  Its  exterior  is  profusely  decorated 
with  most  splendid  bas-reliefs  and  military  trophies,  rep- 
resenting war,  peace,  triumph,  resistance  of  invaders,  and 
other  kindred  subjects,  with  many  of  the  battles  of  the 
great  invader.  Within  the  main  arch  are  engraved  the 
names  of  the  principal  battles  of  the  Republic  and  Empire, 
and  on  the  sides  of  the  smaller  arches  those  of  the  generals 
who  commanded  in  them.  The  whole  is  surrounded  by 
posts  and  chains,  only  pedestrians  being  admitted.  But 
oh  !  sad  humiliation  for  Paris  and  the  gallant  French 
nation.  During  the  German  occupation  of  1871  they 
marched  40,000  men,  including  Uhlans  and  other  cavalry, 


220        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

through  the  central  arch  !  Ascending  to  the  summit,  on 
payment  of  a*  small  fee  to  a  fine  old  soldier  decorated  with 
many  medals  and  the  Legion  d'Honneur,  what  an  exquisite 
bird's-eye  view  is  before  you  !  The  city,  with  all  its  splen- 
did palaces,  hotels,  churches,  squares,  gardens  and  boule- 
vards, the  river  winding  through  it  under  many  bridges, 
seems  to  lie  in  one  vast  saucer-shaped  plain,  with  a  low 
rim  of  hills  surrounding  it.  Prominent  among  the  heights, 
many  of  which  are  crowned  with  forts,  are  those  of  Mendon, 
Mont  Valerien  and  Montmatre,  all  being  more  or  less 
wooded.  Twelve  avenues  converge  on  the  Place,  of  which 
the  Arc  is  the  center,  stately  and  broad,  with  noble  build- 
ings and  lined  with  many  rows  of  trees.  The  impression 
conveyed  by  all  these  beauties  combined  is  not  easily 
described. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  we  all  visited  the 
superb  galleries  of  the  Louvre,  and  their  apparently 
endless  suites  of  splendid  rooms,  with  painted,  gilded  and 
carved  ceilings,  containing  absolutely  acres  of  most  cele- 
brated pictures  by  the  ancient  masters,  many  of  them 
familiar  from  engravings  we  had  seen,  among  whom  I  do 
not  think  there  can  be  one  great  name  not  represented, 
and  to  attempt  to  particularize  would  be  an  endless  task. 
Other  rooms  are  filled  with  apparently  endless  collections 
of  ancient  sculpture  and  works  of  art  of  every  age  and 
nation  of  antiquity,  among  which  I  must  mention  the 
celebrated  Venus  of  Milo,  not  because  I  think  it  the  most 
perfect  female  figure  I  ever  saw,  but  because  sculptors  and 
critics  have  decided  it  to  be  so ;  anyhow,  she  has  a  Salle 
devoted  to  herself  and  is  protected  by  a  bronzed  railing. 
I  feel,  too,  that  I  ought  to  notice  among  the  wonders  of 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         221 

ceramic  art  of  all  people,  many  exquisite  specimens  of 
Bernard  Palissys.  It  would  take  a  month  to  see  all  the 
antique  works  and  beauties  of  this  noble  collection,  and 
then  you  would  want  to  begin  again  if  it  made  the  same 
impression  on  you  that  it  did  on  me.  The  noble  "  Salle 
des  Cariatides  "  affected  us  much  from  its  great  beauty. 
Like  all  the  other  apartments,  it  is  filled  with  marvels  of 
art,  and  specially  memorable  as  the  room  to  which  Henry 
IV.  was  carried  after  the  fatal  attack  of  Ravaillac,  and 
where  Moliere  played  his  first  piece.  But  we  must  tear 
ourselves  away,  for  the  time  of  closing  has  come  and  the 
gendarmes  on  duty  are  growing  impatient. 

Of  the  theatres  of  Paris,  beautiful  as  some  of  them  are 
as  buildings,  of  course  I  can  offer  no  opinion,  not  knowing 
the  language.  We  visited  only  the  Grand  Opera.  This 
magnificent  structure,  which  occupies  the  space  between 
the  Boulevard  des  Capucines  and  Boulevard  Haussmann, 
is  a  National  theatre,  that  is  to  say,  subsidized  by  the  gov- 
ernment, and  was  inaugurated  in  1875.  It  is  probably 
the  finest  modern  building  in  Paris,  not  even  excepting 
the  sumptuous  Hotel  de  Ville,  built  on  the  site  of  its  prede- 
cessor which  was  burnt  by  the  Communists  in  1871,  and 
the  beautiful  interior  of  which  we  unfortunately  had  not 
an  opportunity  to  see.  The  whole  buildings  of  the  Opera 
cover  a  space  of  twelve  thousand  square  yards,  and  cost, 
when  finished ,  the  vast  sum  of  £1 , 1 20,000  sterling.  Its  prin- 
cipal facade  rests  on  a  series  of  arcades  opening  into  a  vast 
hall  communicating  with  the  Grand  Escalier  and  every 
other  part  of  the  building ;  above  this  rises  the  main 
structure,  ornamented  with  Corinthian  columns,  with  a 
towering  cupola  in  the  center,   surmounted   by   Apollo 


222        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

holding  above  his  head  a  golden  lyre.  In  every  place 
where  it  was  correct  and  possible  to  put  them,  are  figures 
illustrative  of  song,  music,  drama,  poetry,  etc.;  but  not 
understanding  architecture,  I  cannot  properly  describe  this 
splendid  theatre,  and  must  beg  you  to  believe  it  all  you 
could  possibly  imagine.  The  interior  is  even  grander  than 
the  exterior ;  it  is  perfectly  gorgeous  in  painting,  gilding, 
marble  columns,  tesselated  floors,  huge  mirrors,  magnifi- 
cent lustres,  and  silken  hangings.  The  staircase,  well 
termed  grand,  is  of  noble  proportions,  with  spacious  gal- 
leries turning  off  to  the  right  and  left  of  the  house,  lav- 
ishly ornamented  with  carved  balustrades  and  figures,  and 
flooded  with  light  from  many  lustres,  the  vaulted  ceil- 
ings everywhere  being  decorated  with  allegorical  paint- 
ings. The  Grand  Foyer  or  Crush-room,  as  we  term  it,  is  if 
possible,  more  strikingly  beautiful  than  the  staircase.  It 
is  180  feet  in  length,  42  feet  wide  and  27  feet  high  ;  along 
its  sides  are  decorated  Corinthian  columns  in  pairs,  each 
being  surmounted  by  an  emblematic  statue.  A  double 
row  of  most  magnificent  lustres  throw  their  effulgence  on 
the  inlaid  floor,  and  tall  mirrors  more  than  twenty  feet 
high  line  the  spaces  between  the  side  columns.  The  vault 
is  finely  decorated  with  allegorical  paintings  by  Paul  Bau- 
dry,  and  I  leave  to  your  imagination  what  must  be  the 
aspect  of  this  splendid  room  when  filled  with  a  gay  crowd 
promenading  up  and  down  between  the  acts.  The  House 
itself,  with  a  stage-opening  of  forty -eight  feet  in  width,  is  in 
perfect  keeping  with  all  its  other  splendours,  being  gor- 
geously finished  in  red  and  gold ;  it  is  calculated  to  seat 
2,200  persons.  The  central  dome  is  of  copper,  beautifully 
painted  by  Lenepveu  with  subjects  illustrating  the  hours 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        223 

of  Day  and  Night.  A  most  superb  central  chandelier,  with 
hundreds  of  lights  and  thousands  of  lustres,  illuminates 
the  vast  area ;  and  alas  !  alas  !  does  more  than  that,  for 
the  smoke  of  the  gas  has  very  nearly  obliterated  the  fres- 
coes of  the  ceiling.  Unfortunately  this  remark  will  apply 
to  every  decorative  space  within  the  building.  Our  Amer- 
ican kinsmen  would  soon  have  remedied  this  terrible 
defect  by  using  the  electric  light,  and  not  suffered  the 
utter  destruction  of  so  much  beauty:  as  I  am  given  to 
understand,  the  paintings  cannot  be  cleaned. 

The  opera  on  the  evening  we  attended  was  "  Faust," 
and  as  a  spectacle 'left  nothing  to  be  desired.  Scenery, 
dresses,  and  all  the  stage  appointments  were  perfect,  par- 
ticularly where  Mephistopheles  introduces  Faust  into 
the  realms  of  Pluto.  I  cannot  find  words  to  adequately 
describe  the  livid  grandeur  and  awful  beauty  of  the  scene, 
enlivened  by  a  varied  and  intricate  ballet,  performed  by 
hundreds  of  female  dancers.  This  elicited  rounds  of 
applause  from  the  crowded  house,  the  ballet  being  to  a 
Parisian  audience  the  most  important  part  of  the  play. 
The  singing  and  music  as  a  whole  was  fairly  good,  but  as 
it  was  in  French  lost  much  of  its  interest  to  us.  Only 
Mephistopheles  struck  me  as  having  a  particularly  fine 
voice,  and  he  looked,  sang  and  acted  his  part,  we  thought, 
to  perfection.  There  are  several  other  theatres  subsidized 
by  the  State  in  Paris,  probably  for  the  same  reasons  that 
induced  the  ancient  Romans  to  do  the  like,  and  so  still 
the  popular  cry  of  "Panem  et  Circenses"  both  things  be- 
ing in  this  case  as  in  the  elder  one,  under  governmental 
control.  And  yet  the  Parisians  grumble  that  the  Repub- 
lic does  not  do  as  much  for  them  in  the  way  of  amuse- 


224        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

ment  as  the  Empire  did,  and  in  its  days  they  complained 
it  did  too  much. 

Having  a  great  desire  to  see  the  ancient  metropolis  of 
Normandy,  so  full  of  interest  to  an  Englishman  from  its 
early  intimate  connection  with  our  history,  the  Professor 
and  I  left  Paris  by  rail  one  fine  morning  for  a  flying  visit 
to  Rouen,  leaving  M.  and  M.  to  rest  and  enjoy  each  other's 
society.  Our  route  lay  through  a  more  interesting  coun- 
try than  on  our  journey  to  Paris,  the  landscape  more 
diversified  in  every  way,  and  beautified  by  the  rivers 
Marne  and  Seine,  the  latter  in  particular  being  very 
serpentine  in  its  course,  and  widening  as  it  neared  the 
city.  Numerous  towns  and  villages  lay  on  our  route,  at 
many  of  which  we  stopped — indeed,  so  many  that  though 
Rouen  is  but  eighty-seven  miles  from  Paris  by  rail,  it  took 
us  four  and  a  half  hours  to  accomplish  our  journey.  We 
travelled  by  second-class  carriage,  which  I  would  remark 
in  passing  is  neither  as  good  nor  comfortable  as  English 
third-class.  I  was  much  interested  in  the  frequent  red- 
tiled,  cozy,  sleepy-looking  villages,  each  with  its  tiny 
conical-roofed  church,  and  surrounded  by  groves,  or  rows 
of  tall  poplars  ;  chateaux  with  small  pepper-box  turrets 
at  their  angles,  and  farm-houses  seemingly  prosperous 
and  commodious,  some  of  them  surrounded  by  high 
walled  court-yards,  with  heavy  gates  swinging  on  stone 
pillars,  looking  as  if  built  for  defence,  as  probably  they 
were.  Large  Norman  horses  harnessed  to  heavy  wains 
stood  dreamily  outside  some  of  these,  with  huge  square 
erections  of  leather,  fringed  with  red,  above  their  withers ; 
they,  like  the  white  walls  and  buildings,  blinking  in  the 
fervent  sunlight.     Every  available  spot  of  ground  seemed 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         225 

to  be  cultivated,  and  on  hill-sides  and  other  places  where  it 
was  not  possible  to  use  a  plough  grapes  were  planted,  not 
trained  on  frames,  as  is  usual  with  us,  but  kept  short  and 
supported  by  stakes,  as  is  I  believe  the  general  continental 
custom.  A  fine  brown,  healthy-looking  peasantry  of  both 
sexes  were  at  work  in  the  fields,  but  the  tall  white  cap  of 
the  Norman  woman  seems  to  have  gone  the  way  of  her 
Welsh  sister's  tall  hat ;  it  may  be  they  wear  them  still  in 
villages  of  the  sea-coast.  It  seemed  remarkable  to  me 
that  though  many  towns  and  villages  lay  on  the  banks  of 
the  Seine  and  Marne,  both  rivers  admirably  adapted  for 
aquatic  sports  of  every  kind,  that  there  are  so  few  boats 
upon  them,  and  those  of  such  clumsy  and  primitive  con- 
struction; at  some  places  there  were  none  at  all,  the  most 
we  saw  being  at  a  village  where  the  patron  saint's  Fete-day 
was  being  celebrated,  every  town  or  village  being  under 
the  tutelage  of  some  individual. 

In  England  such  streams  as  these  would  be  covered 
with  craft  of  all  kinds;  what  can  have  become  of  the  mar- 
itime spirit  of  their  Norse  progenitors  ?  Nearing  the  city, 
the  fairness  of  the  landscape  increases  and  the  eye  is 
attracted  by  the  fine  wooded  heights  surrounding  it,  by  the 
masts  of  many  ships,  and  particularly  by  the  tall  lace-like 
looking  spire  of  the  cathedral,  piercing  up  into  the  blue 
sky. 

This  city  of  Rouen  is  built  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
Seine,  the  suburb  of  St.  Sever  being  on  the  left,  and 
approached  from  the  railway  station  by  a  fine  stone  bridge, 
the  central  arches  of  which,  adorned  with  a  statue  of  Cor- 
neille,  a  native  of  the  town,  rest  on  the  He  Lacroix,  in  the 
middle  of  the  river.     Once  it  was  strongly  fortified,  but 

15 


226        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

now  a  great  part  is  laid  out  for  public  walks  and  gardens. 
Rouen  is  of  very  great  antiquity,  even  being  mentioned  by 
Ptolemy  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  second  century,  but  as  I 
am  not  writing  a  history  of  the  place,  we  will  skip  the 
intervening  centuries  until  the  tenth,  when  it  was  cap- 
tured by  Rollo  the  Northman,  who  made  it  his  capital  and 
himself  first  Duke  of  Normandy.  From  that  time  down 
to  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century,  it  is  more  or  less 
connected  with  English  history,  undergoing  many  sieges 
and  often  changing  masters — now  Norman,  now  English — 
having  been  a  fortified  town  from  the  Roman  period,  and 
falling  finally  into  the  hands  of  France  in  1449. 

William  the  Conqueror  died  in  this  city  from  injuries 
received  at  the  siege  of  Mantes,  by  falling  from  his  horse, 
in  1087.  The  lion  heart  of  that  "  flower  of  chivalry  " 
Richard  Coeur  de  Lion,  was  deposited  in  a  leaden  casket 
near  the  high  altar  of  the  cathedral,  in  1199.  It  has  since 
been  discovered,  bearing  the  following  legend  :  Hie  jacet 
cor  Richardi,  regis  Anglorum,  and  when  opened — was  it  sac- 
rilege ? — the  once  mighty  heart  looked  like  a  withered 
leaf.  All  that  now  remains  of  the  "  puissant  Richard  " 
are  a  few  particles  of  shining  whitish  dust  in  a  glass  box 
in  the  museum. 

In  the  Place  la  Pucelle  Joan  of  Arc  was  said  to  have 
been  burned  by  the  English,  who  bought  her  from  the 
Burgundians,  into  whose  hands  she  had  fallen  in  1431. 
Popular  belief  at  the  time  said  that  some  criminal  was 
executed  in  her  place  ;  and  the  modern  researches  of  four 
French  writers  assert  that  she  never  was  burned,  and  event- 
ually married  a  Sieur  Robert  des  Armoise,  and  lived  hap- 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         227 

pily.     For  common  humanity's  sake,  let  us  hope   and 
believe  it  was  so. 

We  put  up  during  our  stay  at  the  "Grand  Hotel  d' 
Angleterre,"  pleasantly  situated  on  the  Quai,  which  is 
lined  for  some  distance  down  the  river  with  vessels  of  all 
nations,  conspicuous  among  them  being  American,  English 
and  Italian  flags.  This  house  combines  many  of  the  com- 
forts of  an  English  inn,  with  the  luxuries  of  a  French 
one,  the  bed-chambers,  etc.,  being  all  one  could  ask.  On 
being  shown  our  respective  couches,  the  Professor  suddenly 
exclaimed,  "  By  Jove  !  I  must  go  out  and  buy  matches  and 
soap,  for  I  see  M.  has  forgotten  to  put  any  in  my  valise." 
On  enquiry  I  found  that  hotels  in  France  do  not  furnish 
their  guests  with  the  above  indispensables ;  candles  are 
supplied,  but  charged  for  separately,  as  in  old-fashioned 
English  houses.  The  view  from  our  windows  was  very 
pleasing  and  lively.  The  broad,  busy  quay,  finely  em- 
banked river,  equal  I  think  to  that  of  Paris ;  spacious 
boulevards,  with  rows  of  trees,  on  the  site  of  what  was 
once  the  defences  of  Rouen,  stretching  far  down  the  noble 
stream,  rendered  more  beautiful  still  by  being  studded 
near  the  city  with  several  picturesquely  wooded  islands. 

We  mounted  a  tram-car  and  went  for  a  considerable 
distance  down  its  course,  past  quais  and  gardens,  into  a 
pretty  and  populous  suburb,  as  we  advanced  deteriorating 
into  a  long  street  of  small  houses,  wine-shops,  green- 
grocers, etc.,  with  tall  factory  chimneys  below  upon  the 
river's  bank.  Buxom-looking  Norman  women  with  stiff" 
white  caps  and  long  lapels  (minus  the  high  caul),  were 
gossiping  at  doors  and  windows,  men  lounging  about  clad 
in  blouses  in  front  of  cabarets,  and  bonny  urchins  playing 


228         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

in  the  street.  Pretty  villas  and  grounds  were  of  frequent 
occurrence,  and  on  the  wooded  heights  of  the  opposite 
bank  of  the  river  the  eye  caught  sight  of  several  snug- 
looking  chateaux  and  shooting-boxes  among  the  trees. 

I  fancy  I  would  like  to  live  in  Rouen.  There  must  be 
quite  a  large  English-speaking  colony  here,  for  during  an 
hour  spent  under  the  broad  awning  in  front  of  a  cafe  on 
the  evening  of  our  arrival,  I  never  heard  a  word  of  French, 
all  the  conversation  of  the  numerous  guests  being,  to  my 
surprise,  in  English.  So  at  the  dinner-table  of  the  hotel, 
and  most  of  the  waiters  speak  it  also  ;  no  doubt  it  is  neces- 
sary from  the  many  tourists  coming  to  this  interesting  town 
in  summer.  The  lower  and  more  modern  part  of  the  city 
has  fine  streets  and  handsome  buildings,  with  large  open 
and  airy  spaces;  but  the  older  streets,  narrow  and  tortuous, 
with  wooden-bound  and  gabled  houses,  often  rich  and 
quaint  carving  and  latticed  windows  had  much  more 
charm  for  me.  What  strange  nomenclature  abounds  in 
these  old  places.  One  street  the  Professor  interpreted  as 
being  the  "  Gate  of  the  Rats  ;  "  no  doubt  that  of  the  Cats 
was  not  far  off. 

After  a  long  and  pleasant  ramble  through  many  an  old 
thoroughfare  we  visited  the  cathedral,  whose  heaven- 
aspiring  spire  is  one  of  the  first  things  to  attract  a  visitor's 
attention  on  nearing  the  city,  and  to  disappoint  him  on 
closer  acquaintance.  My  impression  being  that  it  was 
built  of  stone,  my  admiration  was  unbounded  at  the 
exquisite  lightness  and  tracery  of  trie  work,  showing  the 
daylight  through  it,  but  finding  it  to  be  of  iron  and  con- 
structed in  sections,  the  charm  is  gone  and  a  feeling  of  dis- 
appointment remains.     This  structure,  which  crowns  the 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        229 


central  tower,  is  the  successor  of  three  wooden  spires,  all  of 
which  have  been  struck  by  lightning,  and  the  choice  of 
the  present  material,  so  attractive  to  the  deadly  fluid, 
seems  queer  to  me.  Its  summit  is  436  feet  above  the 
ground,  and  a  stout,  portly  dame  who  was  knitting  at  a 
door- way  in  one  of  the  courts  of  the  building,  presenting 
a  big  key,  asked  if  we  wished  to  ascend  to  it ;  declined 
with  thanks  !  The  finial,  which  was  destined  to  complete 
the  spire,  is  still  on  terra  firma,  as  it  is  considered  doubt- 
ful if  the  tower  is  adequate  to  sustain  its  additional  weight. 
The  origin  of  this  church  is  involved  in  obscurity,  but  'tis 
known  that  it  was  pillaged  by  Northern  pirates  in  the  ninth 
century,  and  Rollo,  first  Duke  of  Normandy,  a  convert 
from  Scandinavian  paganism,  received  Christian  baptism 
in  it  in  the  year  912. 

Much  of  the  edifice  was  destroyed  by  fire  in  1200,  and 
King  John  (Sans  Terre),  of  England,  supplied  funds  for  its 
reconstruction.  One  wonders  how  he  got  the  money;  prob- 
ably by  piously  pulling  out  the  teeth  of  some  rich  Jew. 
Subsequent  additions  were  made  down  to  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, resulting  in  its  present  aspect.  The  ground  plan  is 
similar  to  many  of  our  English  cathedrals,  the  west  front 
being  impressive  from  its  vast  width  and  venerable  aspect, 
but  has  suffered  much  from  time  and  the  hand  of  man. 
Its  length  is  450  feet,  height  of  the  nave  90  feet,  the 
whole  edifice  being  lighted  by  130  windows,  the  glass  in 
some  of  which  is  very  fine,  illustrating  the  lives  of  sundry 
Saints;  three  rose-windows,  one  at  the  extremity  of  each 
transept,  and  one  over  the  west  portal,  are  especially  beau- 
tiful. There  are  no  less  than  twenty-five  chapels  around 
the  building,  some  of  which  have  very  fine  old  glass  and 


230        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

paintings,  but  to  my  e}^e  the  stately  beauty  and  calm 
grandeur  of  the  place  is  marred  by  the  tawdry  finery, 
gaudy  colouring,  and  tinsel  crowns  of  some  of  their  saintly 
occupants,  and  the  numerous  little  lamps  twinkling  before 
their  shrines. 

In  one  of  these  chapels  is  the  tomb  of  Rollo,  in  an 
opposite  one  that  of  William  Longue-Epee,  killed  in  944. 
Within  the  choir  are  three  stones,  indicating  the  burial 
places  of  Prince  Henry,  son  of  Henry  II.  of  England,  the 
heart  of  Richard  Cceur  de  Lion  and  John,  Duke  of  Bedford, 
regent  of  France  under  Henry  IV.  The  aisles  were  once 
rich  in  monumental  brasses,  but  the  iconoclastic  zeal  of 
the  Calvinists  in  the  sixteenth  century — if  no  other  or 
more  unworthy  motive  prevailed — has  left  nothing  but  the 
empty  matrices  from  which  they  were  pillaged.  I  was 
much  interested  in  noticing  amongst  the  elaborate  carving 
adorning  the  west  front  a  genealogical  device  called  the 
"  Tree  of  Jesse "  over  the  grand  portal,  as  it  served  to 
throw  some  light  on  the  statue  of  the  same  name  I  men- 
tioned before  in  Abergavenny  church,  that  doubtless  being 
a  fragment  of  a  similar  design,  but  of  much  vaster  pro- 
portions than  this. 

From  here  we  went  to  the  church  of  St.  Maclou  ;  it  is 
of  no  great  size,  but  seemed  to  me  a  perfect  gem  of  beauty. 
The  west  front  has  five  large  pointed  arches,  and  several 
of  the  doors  are  wonders  of  wood-carving  by  the  celebrated 
sculptor  Jean  Goujon,  illustrating  scriptural  subjects.  In 
the  chapel  of  St.  Clair  are  representations  of  the  Saint 
carrying  his  head  in  his  hand  after  his  martyrdom,  when 
he — like  St.  Denis — 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         231 

" had  hie  head  cut  off, 

But  did  not  care  for  that ; 
He  took  it  up  and  carried  it 
Two  miles  without  a  hat  !  " 

Our  next  visit  was  to  the  abbey  church  of  St.  Ouen, 
said  to  be  the  most  ancient  in  Normandy,  dating  from 
the  sixth  century.  The  present  structure  is  of  the  four- 
teenth and  fifteenth  centuries,  very  beautiful  to  my  mind, 
and  claimed  by  the  people  of  Rouen  to  be  the  finest 
church  in  the  world.  In  plan  and  general  arrangements 
it  is  similar  to  a  cathedral,  and  vast  in  its  proportions, 
being  450  feet  in  length,  with  transepts  to  correspond. 
Besides  the  great  central  lantern,  it  has  two  beautiful 
towers  in  the  west  front,  and  between  them,  a  magnificent 
rose- window  which,  seen  from  within,  is  almost  beyond 
compare.  Looking  along  the  building  inside  from  the 
great  west  door  eastward,  the  purity  of  its  lines,  vast 
altitude,  and  glorious  windows  (which  number  one  hun- 
dred and  thirty),  make  a  whole  so  lovely  that  it  almost 
defies  description ;  it  is  by  far  the  most  striking  interior 
I  have  seen  in  France,  and  the  exterior  corresponds  to  it 
in  beauty.  It  is  surrounded  with  beautiful  grounds  most 
tastefully  laid  out,  with  walks,  flowers,  and  umbrageous 
trees,  occupying  the  site  of  what  was  once  the  convent 
garden.  It  was  with  difficulty  I  could  tear  myself  away 
from  the  contemplation  of  the  scene.  Why  does  one  feel 
such  attraction  and  satisfaction  in  these  grand  efforts  of 
the  old  builders,  when  the  most  gorgeous  structures  of 
modern  architects  fail  to  produce  the  same  offect?  It 
seems  as  though  the  former  embodied  in  the  stone  of  their 
great  creations  their  very  thoughts,  aspirations  and  piety. 
But  how  can  I  venture  upon  an  opinion  when  on  this  very 


232        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

building  eminent  critics  like  Mr.  E.  A.  Freeman  and 
Mr.  John  Ruskin  entertain  such  opposite  views.  The 
former  says  :  "  Truly  the  abbey  of  St.  Ouen  may  claim 
the  first  place  among  all  the  edifices  that  human  skill  has 
ever  reared.  Nothing  is  introduced  which  derogates  from 
its  claim  to  be  the  noblest  of  Gothic  churches,  and  con- 
sequently of  all  human  creations."  Mr.  Ruskin  declares 
the  lantern  "is  one  of  the  basest  pieces  of  Gothic  in 
Europe,  the  tower  of  St.  Ouen  overrated,  and  the  nave  a 
base  imitation."  "Nothing  being  fine  but  the  choir,  the 
light  triforium,  tall  clerestory,  and  circle  of  eastern 
chapels !" 

From  hence  we  proceeded  to  La  Palais  de  Justice,  a 
most  elaborate  building  with  much  embellishment  in 
pointed  steeples,  pinnacles,  and  decorated  dormer  win- 
dows, built  around  a  square  court-yard  ;  it  is  very  strik- 
ing in  appearance,  and  the  Assize  hall  is  considered  the 
finest  in  France.  This  building  was  formerly  the  Parlia- 
ment House  of  Normandy.  Thence  we  passed  into  the 
Rue  de  la  Grosse-Horloge,  where,  on  an  ancient  archway 
that  crosses  the  narrow  street,  much  like  the  old  erection 
at  Temple  Bar,  is  the  huge  dial  of  the  clock  from  which 
it  takes  its  name.  The  ancient  belfry,  as  appears  from  a 
brass  plate  at  the  stair-foot,  was  commenced  in  1389,  and 
the  great  bell,  cast  in  1447,  is  rung  every  night  at  9  o'clock 
as  a  curfew.  The  arch  is  elaborately  sculptured  on  both 
sides,  and  the  good  people  of  Rouen  take  no  little  pride 
in  their  Tour  de  la  Grosse-Horloge. 

A  short  distance  brought  us  to  the  illy-paved  Place 
de  la  Pucelle,  surrounded  by  high  houses,  where  Joan  of 
Arc  was  burned  on  the  last  day  of  May,  1421 .     A  (to  me) 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        233 

unsatisfactory  statue  of  the  "  Maid  "  occupies  the  center 
of  the  square,  standing  on  a  lofty  pedestal,  ornamented 
with  grotesque  heraldic  dolphins  at  each  corner,  and  the 
plinth  serving  as  a  public  fountain.  She  is  represented 
as  clad  in  flowing  classic  robes,  with  her  head  and  arms 
bare ;  the  right  one  holds  a  sword  with  its  point  at  her 
feet,  the  left  being  supported  on  a  shield.  Much  of  the 
pedestal  was  covered  with  faded  wreaths,  detracting  not 
a  little  from  any  beauty  it  might  have  had.  In  my 
mind's  eye  I  had  imagined  a  noble  female  figure  in  ar- 
mour except  the  helmet,  with  flowing  hair  over  her 
shoulders  and  her  celebrated  sword  held  aloft;  so  you  see 
I  was  disappointed. 

Another  object  of  interest  is  the  low,  round  tower,  with 
conical  roof,  in  which  it  is  said  she  was  confined  previous 
to  her  execution,  and  called  uLa  tour  de  Jeanne  d'Arc." 
We  were  not  able  to  visit  it  for  lack  of  time,  but  outwardly 
it  seemed  strong  and  grim  enough  to  hold  more  than  the 
poor  little  "Maid."  Passing  through  an  archway  elabo- 
rately sculptured,  on  one  side  of  the  Place  de  la  Pucelle, 
you  enter  the  court-yard  of  the  ancient  and  interesting 
Hotel  de  Bourgtheroulde,  built  in  the  fifteenth  century,  and 
said  to  have  been  the  residence  of  John,  Duke  of  Bedford, 
regent  of  France.  Its  principal  front,  which  has  two 
square  towers,  is  almost  covered  with  bas-reliefs  represent- 
ing the  meeting  between  Francis  I.  and  Henry  VIII., 
known  as  the  "Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold."  There  are 
other  sculptures  poitraying  rustic  scenes,  the  whole  form- 
ing a  most  interesting  study. 

I  would  fain  have  spent  a  week  in  this  most  charming 
city  and  its  environs,  but  imperious  time  said  "  No,"  so  we 


234        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

left  by  express  train  at  1 :30  p.  m.  for  Paris,  arriving  there 
at  4  o'clock,  more  than  delighted  with  my  trip.  Finding 
the  ladies  and  children  of  our  party  had  gone  out,  we 
followed  as  directed,  to  La  Muette,  but  being  Sundav 
afternoon  the  crowd  was  so  great  in  these  beautiful 
though  small  pleasure  grounds,  that  our  search  was  in 
vain.  We  crossed  the  boulevard,  with  no  better  success, 
into  the  Bois  de  Boulogne;  so  after  refreshing  ourselves 
with  a  hock  at  a  cafe,  we  were  forced  to  retrace  our  steps, 
baffled  in  our  search. 


VI. 


WHAT  a  gay  and  animated  scene  these  public  places 
present  upon  any  holiday!  How  these  light-hearted 
French  people  seem  utterly  to  abandon  themselves  to  the 
influences  of  the  hour,  quite  oblivious  of  their  surround- 
ings or  of  observations  by  anybody,  being  intent  only  on 
enjoying  themselves  to  the  uttermost.  The  green  turf 
beneath  the  shade  of  the  noble  trees  was  covered  with 
groups  of  picnicers.  Here  a  gay  party  of  both  sexes,  with 
snowy  table-cloth  spread  out  upon  the  grass,  well  covered 
with  creature  comforts,  and  glistening  with  silver  and 
glass  appointments ;  at  a  little  distance  a  comfortable 
looking  couple  of  bourgeoise  with  their  small  family  of 
children — they  never  have  large  families  in  France — look- 
ing prosperous  and  happy,  and  under  the  next  group  of 
trees  an  ouvrier  and  his  family,  whom  we  have  just  seen 
take  up  their  station,  the  husband  carrying  under  one  arm 
a  couple  of  loaves  of  bread  a  yard  long,  and  under  the 
other  two  bottles,  presumably  of  vin  ordinaire,  the  wife 
bearing  as  her  share  a  well-filled  basket.  The  open 
spaces,  too,  have  their  groups  of  men  and  women,  boys 
and  girls ;  fathers  of  families  with  their  coats  thrown  off 
playing  at  some  game  of  ball  with  their  boys ;  mothers, 
voluble  and  merry  ;  girls  skipping  or  chasing  each  other 
about,  and  laughter,  good  humour  and  merriment  every- 
where prevalent.     No  apparent  fear  of  Mrs.  Grundy,  but  a 

235 


236        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

sensible  appreciation  of  the  good  things  vouchsafed  and 
determination  to  make  the  best  of  them. 

The  following  day  we  betook  ourselves  to  the  Hotel  des 
Invalides,  which  superb  edifice  was  erected  by  Louis  XIV. 
as  a  home  for  wounded  or  aged  soldiers  of  the  nation,  and 
is  in  every  way  worthy  of  the  splendour  of  the  Grand 
Monarque.  The  principal  fagade  is  225  yards  long,  four 
stories  high,  adorned  with  trophies  and  statues,  and  sur- 
mounted by  a  grand  richly -gilt  and  ornamented  dome 
visible  in  all  parts  of  Paris.  In  the  paved  court  in  front 
are  fourteen  splendid  guns,  captured  in  different  wars,  called 
the  "  Batterie  Triumphale,'*  some  of  which  are  of  fine 
workmanship  and  design. 

Entering  by  the  chief  doorwa3r,  we  began  the  examina- 
tion of  the  different  rooms  and  galleries,  containing  the 
wondrous  museum  of  amour,  arms  and  trophies  of  all 
kinds,  for  which  it  is  so  justly  celebrated.  'Tis  beautiful 
almost  beyond  conception  in  antiquity,  variety  and  rich- 
ness. 

But  as  I  have  enlarged  somewhat  on  a  similar  collection 
in  the  Tower  of  London,  I  will  not  weary  you  with  this. 
At  the  same  time,  candor  compels  me  to  admit  that  this 
seemed  to  me  the  richer,  more  full  and  better  kept  of  the 
two.  It  may  be  that  the  recent  dynamite  outrage  in  the 
Tower  at  the  time  of  our  visit  detracted  from  its  usual 
beauty — especially  as  one  great  chamber  was  entirely 
empty — but  certainly  we  were  struck  with  the  superiority 
of  this  collection. 

I  feel  I  must  mention  one  suite  of  rooms,  being  what  is 
called  the  "  Musee  d'Ethnographie,1'  because  it  is  the 
most  perfect  thing  of  the  kind  I  ever  saw,  and  of  great 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        237 

interest.  They  contain  a  vast  collection  in  groups  of  two 
or  more,  showing  every  variety  of  the  human  race,  with 
the  dress,  arms  and  equipments  of  the  era  represented, 
from  the  primitive  man  down  to  the  soldier  of  the  empire, 
each  of  course  taken  from  the  best  authorities.  Our  sav- 
age forefathers,  as  well  as  those  of  Gaul,  are  there,  stained 
with  ivoad  and  clad  in  skins,  with  their  rude  stone  or 
bronze  weapons  of  war  and  chase.  The  splendid  warriors 
of  ancient  Greece  and  Rome,  each  in  their  proper  equip- 
ment— the  latter  bearing  the  standard  victorious  over  so 
much  of  the  ancient  world,  with  its  magic  letters  S.  P.  Q. 
R.  The  mailed  knights,  men-at-arms,  bowmen,  etc.,  of  the 
Middle  Ages  and  Crusades,  and  so  down  through  the  cen- 
turies, with  the  quaint  dresses,  arms  and  equipments, 
almost  to  the  present  day.  'Tis  not  only  the  nations  of 
Europe  that  are  represented,  but  those  of  Asia,  Africa, 
and  America,  as  well  as  Australasia,  Melanesia,  Micro- 
nesia and  Polynesia,  a  splendid  looking  Hawaiian  war- 
rior being  among  them,  clad  in  feather  cloak  and  helmet, 
armed  with  long  spear,  and  a  canoe-paddle  lying  at  his 
feet. 

We  lingered  so  long  in  these  interesting  rooms  that  we 
had  not  time  to  visit  the  pensioners'  quarters,  but  pro- 
ceeded at  once  to  the  church  of  St.  Louis,  attached  to  the 
building,  to  see  the  tomb  of  the  great  Napoleon.  I  do  not 
think  I  was  very  much  impressed  with  the  beauty  or 
splendour  of  the  edifice  ;  it  may  be  there  was  too  much  of 
the  latter  quality  to  be  in  accordance  with  my,  perhaps 
peculiar,  taste.  Too  much  gold,  marble,  colour  and  light, 
yet  it  had  a  grandeur  of  its  own.  You  know  that  the 
great  warrior  died  and  was  buried  at  St.  Helena  ;  in  1840 


238        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

his  remains  were  removed  to  France  and  deposited  in  a 
hugh  sarcophagus  hewn  from  a  single  block  of  Russian 
granite — oh !  strange  irony  of  fate — and  deposited  in  the 
crypt  of  this  church.  Part  of  the  pavement  above  has  been 
removed  and  railed  around  to  permit  a  view  of  it,  and  is 
altogether  too  suggestive  of  a  bear-pit ;  much  better,  I 
think,  had  it  stood  on  the  upper  floor  and  been  supported 
from  beneath.  The  more  so,  as  around  the  upper  space 
are  several  chapels  containing  richly  sculptured  tombs  of 
his  brothers,  and  some  of  the  great  Marshals  of  the 
empire.  The  ponderous  sarcophagus,  which  I  took  at 
first  to  be  of  some  red  wood,  did  not  strike  me  by  its 
beauty,  but  I  suppose  it  is  classical,  and  is  surrounded  by 
twelve  figures  finely  executed  by  Pradier,  symbolical  of 
twelve  great  victories  of  Napoleon;  between  each  a  stand 
of  captured  flags,  and  at  their  feet  the  name  of  the  battle, 
inlaid  in  the  marble  floor.  We  descended  the  stairs  of 
white  marble  that  led  into  the  crypt,  but  a  massive  bronze 
door,  flanked  by  two  eolossal  statues,  being  closed,  forbade 
our  entrance.  Had  we  been  able  to  obtain  admission,  no 
doubt  the  effect  would  have  been  very  grand  as  seen  from 
the  floor  of  the  vault. 

From  here  we  walked  down  the  Esplanade  des  Invalides 
to  the  river,  and  proceeding  by  steamboat — as  we  came  to 
this — landed  at  the  Pont  Neuf  on  our  way  to  the  church 
of  Notre  Dame.  In  passing  some  of  the  party,  of  whom 
I  was  one,  turned  into  the  Morgue,  which  is  behind  the 
apsis  of  the  church.  M.  declined  entering.  Two  poor  fel- 
lows, victims  of  a  falling  scaffold,  who  had  j  ust  been  brought 
in,  lay  there  looking  ghastly  enough,  but  I  hurried  out,  not 
noting  details,  and  feeling  sure  that  it  would  be  my  first 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD   WORLD.        239 

and  last  voluntary  visit  to  the  dread  place.  I  think  I  men- 
tioned before  that  the  noble  cathedral  and  parish-church 
of  Notre  Darne — for  it  is  both — is  built  on  the  He  de  la 
Cite,  on  a  spot  formerly  occupied  by  a  pagan  temple,  and 
subsequently  a  Christian  basilica.  The  present  beautiful 
Gothic  edifice  is  of  the  twelfth  to  the  fifteenth  centuries, 
and  ranks  among  the  noblest  specimens  of  the  style.  This 
grand  structure  is  400  feet  long,  150  feet  wide,  110  feet 
high,  and  the  richly  ornamented  square  towers  at  each  side 
of  its  principal  front  218  feet  in  height.  The  facade  is 
divided  into  three  stages,  the  front  and  its  three  ogival 
bays  being  surmounted  by  a  gallery  rich  with  statues,  a 
large  central  rose-window  over  the  principal  door,  and 
above  a  fine  open  gallery  connecting  with  the  towers  before 
mentioned,  originally  intended  to  support  spires.  Niches 
filled  with  statuary  adorn  every  available  space,  those  of 
the  first  gallery  being  occupied  by  a  series  of  kings  of 
France.  The  apse  of  this  glorious  church  is  very  beautiful, 
too,  with  its  graceful  flying  buttresses  and  ornate  central 
spire,  especially  as  seen  from  the  river,  and  imagination 
almost  deludes  one  into  the  belief  that  you  can  detect 
Quasimodo  leering  from  some  of  its  richly  ornamented 
windows.  I  cannot  pass  unnoticed  the  three  beautiful 
entrances  and  superbly  carved  doors  of  the  principal 
front.  Above  the  central  arch  is  sculptured  the  Last 
Judgment  and  a  fine  statue  of  Our  Saviour,  the  left  door 
being  surmounted  by  one  of  the  Virgin,  and  the  right  by 
that  of  St.  Marcel.  The  interior  is  very  grand,  rich  in 
paintings,  arabesques  and  bas-reliefs,  with  most  magnifi- 
cent glass,  all  looking  dim  and  splendid,  but  I  find  I 
have  no  note  of  details,  nor  can  I  tell  you  of  the  great 


240        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

occurrences  that  have  happened  within  its  walls,  save  that 
it  was  here  that  Napoleon  I.  crowned  himself  and  Jose- 
phine emperor  and  empress  of  France. 

In  the  open  space  in  front  of  the  cathedral,  surrounded 
now  by  fine  buildings,  Henry  of  Navarre  was  married  to 
Margaret,  daughter  of  Catherine  de  Medicis,  in  1572. 
Catholics  and  Huguenots  both  rejoiced  at  the  event,  and 
the  concession  made  to  the  belief  of  each  by  this  open-air 
marriage ;  but  their  joy  was  of  short  duration,  for  two 
days  after  occurred  the  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew. 

Of  course  there  are  many  more  fine  churches  in  Paris, 
but  space  would  not  permit,  even  if  you  did  not  tire,  of 
descriptions  of  them  all,  therefore  I  will  confine  myself 
to  a  few  remarks  on  some  of  the  most  prominent.  The 
church  of  the  Madeleine,  at  the  head  of  the  boulevard  of 
that  name,  is  a  grand  Christian  temple,  built  after  the 
model  of  a  pagan  one,  the  Parthenon,  and  intended  by 
Napoleon  I.  to  be  devoted  to  "Glory."  It  is  surrounded 
front  and  sides  with  long  rows  of  magnificent  Corinthian 
columns,  and  approached  by  a  flight  of  twenty-eight 
steps.  Under  the  colonnades  are  niches  filled  with  fine 
statues,  and  the  pediment — over  the  magnificent  bronze 
doors  sculptured  with  scriptural  subjects — is  embellished 
with  a  striking  representation  of  the  Last  Judgment.  Its 
interior,  one  vast  nave  with  four  bays,  is  rich  with  gild- 
ings, frescoes,  carvings,  marbles  and  statues.  The  vaulted 
ceiling,  divided  into  cupolas  and  compartments,  is  sump- 
tuous in  gold  and  colour,  and  the  whole  effect  very  strik- 
ing, but  unlike  a  Christian  edifice.  The  Pantheon,  built 
in  the  latter  part  of  the  eighteenth  century  as  the  church 
of  Sainte-Genevieve,  was  by  the  Constituent  Assembly  of 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        241 

the  first  Republic  converted  into  a  temple  dedicated  to 
the  great  men  of  the  nation  ;  re-consecrated  to  its  former 
patron  saint  by  the  late  emperor,  and  now  again  secular- 
ized by  the  present  Republic  in  order  to  contain  the 
remains  of  the  arch-apostle  of  egoism,  Victor  Hugo.  How 
incomprehensible  to  my  duller  Anglo-Saxon  imagination 
are  the  feelings  that  sway  this  people.  A  large  portion  of 
the  nation,  while  admiring  with  all  the  world  his  splendid 
genius,  dislike  the  man  and  despise  his  views  on  religious 
subjects,  and  yet  they  deify  him,  and  so  cover  the  steps 
leading  to  the  building  that  contains  his  remains  with 
votive  wreaths  to  his  memory,  that  you  can  scarce  find  a 
place  to  plant  your  foot.  The  exterior  of  this  church  is 
very  fine;  the  peristyle,  surmounted  by  a  pediment,  is  sup- 
ported on  a  double  row  of  fluted  Corinthian  columns. 
The  bas-reliefs  of  the  latter,  the  masterpiece  of  David 
d'Angers,  represents  France  between  Liberty  and  History 
distributing  palms  to  her  great  men.  In  the  center  of  the 
church  rises  a  magnificent  dome,  with  a  fine  Corinthian 
colonnade,  above  this  a  cupola  with  a  lantern  ornament, 
the  whole  surmounted  by  a  large  gilt  cross,  which  has  not 
been  cut  off,  as  stated  by  some  of  the  newspapers.  Ex- 
ternally it  is  very  imposing;  of  the  interior  I  cannot  speak, 
as  unfortunately  the  doors  were  closed  on  our  arrival. 
The  churches  of  Saint-Etienne  du  Monte,  Saint  Eustache, 
as  well  as  that  of  Saint-Germain  l'Auxerrois — of  St.  Bar- 
tholomew fame — are  all  very  ancient  and  interesting,  and 
with  many  more  well  worthy  of  notice,  but  I  must  refrain. 
The  Palais  du  Luxembourg,  formerly  a  royal  resi- 
dence, a  prison  during  the  Revolutionary  times,  subse- 
quently the  palace  of  the  Directory  and  Consulate,  is  now 

16 


242         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

a  museum  of  modern  art,  and  contains  a  vast  collection  of 
paintings  and  statuary.  It  is  also  used  as  the  palace  of 
the  Senate,  the  Petit  Luxembourg,  contiguous  to  it,  being 
the  residence  of  the  president  of  that  body.  The  grounds 
surrounding  the  whole  are  very  beautifully  laid  out,  par- 
ticularly what  is  called  the  English  garden,  and  adorned 
with  a  fountain  and  numerous  statues.  A  fine  military 
band  was  playing  during  our  visit,  as  is  usual  on  certain 
days,  and  we  enjoyed  it  all  immensely.  I  shall  not 
attempt  any  description  of  the  superb  collections  of 
either  pictures  or  statues  that  we  saw  in  the  vast  galleries, 
first,  because  the  catalogues,  being  in  French,  were  not 
"  understanded  "  by  me,  and  secondly,  the  enormous  quan- 
tities of  both  that  we  have  seen,  seem  to  have  somehow 
or  other  mixed  themselves  up  in  such  inextricable  con- 
fusion in  my  mind,  that  without  a  catalogue  I  cannot 
clear  them,  but  ask  you  to  believe  they  are  numerous  and 
beautiful,  in  fact,  a  regular  "  embarras  du  richesse"  There 
were  crowds  of  sight-seers  like  ourselves,  and  many  copy- 
ists of  both  sexes,  but  principally  female,  before  some  of 
the  pictures.  Leaving  this,  we  strayed  through  a  good 
part  of  the  Quartier  Latin,  celebrated  as  haunts  of  students, 
the  Professor  showing  us  his  former  rooms  while  making 
one  of  their  number. 

Of  course  we  saw  the  Colonne  Vendome  in  the  Place  of 
that  name,  on  one  side  of  which  stands  the  Hotel  de  Bris- 
tol, well  known  to  English  tourists.  This  column,  which 
is  150  feet  high,  is  modelled  after  that  of  Trajan  at  Rome, 
its  central  shaft  being  of  free-stone,  round  which  run 
spiral  bas-reliefs  of  bronze  made  from  Austrian  cannon 
taken  by  Napoleon,  and  depicting  memorable  incidents  in 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        243 


the  campaign  of  1805.  A  figure  of  the  great  soldier  crowns 
the  summit,  clad  as  a  Roman  emperor.  It  was  thrown 
down  by  the  Commune  in  1871,  and  rebuilt  in  1874.  We 
did  not  ascend  its  "giddy  height,"  being  quite  satisfied 
with  Paris  as  seen  from  the  Arc  de  Triomphe  de  l'Etoile, 
besides  feeling  that  I  had  had  enough  of  "  going  aloft "  in 
my  younger  days. 

On  a  fair  cool  day  we  mounted  outside  of  one  of  the 
very  excellent  busses  in  oftler  to  obtain  a  good  view  of 
the  city,  and  proceeded  along  street,  avenue  and  boulevard 
from  Passy,  on  its  extreme  west,  to  the  Place  de  la  Bastille, 
almost  at  the  extreme  east,  a  distance  of  some  four  miles, 
and  full  of  interest  and  beauty  all  the  way  we  took.  This 
Place  occupies  the  site  of  the  ancient  fortress  and  prison 
of  the  Bastile,  built  by  Charles  V.,  and  destroyed  by  the 
people  on  the  14th  of  July,  in  the  revolution  of  1789.  In 
the  center  rises  the  Colonne  de  Juillet  to  commemorate 
that  event,  and  also  the  subsequent  revolution  and  abdi- 
cation of  Charles  X.  in  1830.  The  column,  which  is  of 
bronze,  is  155  feet  in  height,  surmounted  by  a  gilt  figure 
of  the  Genius  of  Liberty,  and  stands  on  a  massive  circular 
block  of  stone  ;  the  sub-basement  is  square  and  adorned 
with  twenty -four  bronze  medallions  decorated  with  bas- 
reliefs  and  the  dates  27th,  28th  and  29th  July,  being  the 
days  of  the  latter  revolution.  The  names  of  the  645  com- 
batants who  fell  at  that  time,  and  whose  remains  are  depos- 
ited in  the  vaults  beneath  the  structure,  are  inscribed  in 
letters  of  gold  on  its  sides.  What  thoughts  crowd  upon  you 
when  you  reflect  on  the  horrors  these  noble  streets  and 
squares  have  seen;  but  Louis  Napoleon  pretty  well  disposed 
of  the  feasibility  of  further  barricades  by  widening  thor- 


244        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

oughfares  and  substituting  asphalte  for  stone  paving,  be- 
sides leaving  plenty  of  room  for  troops  to  form  and  cavalry 
to  charge. 

On  the  Feast  of  the  Assumption,  when  most  of  the 
shops  were  shut,  and  the  general  aspect  of  the  city  quieter 
and  more  Sabbath-like  than  the  next  day — Sunday — we 
went,  most  of  the  way  by  water,  as  it  was  very  warm,  to 
the  Jardin  des  Plantes,  on  the  Quai  St.  Bernard.  The 
grounds — open  free  to  the  public — are  of  great  extent, 
comprising  some  seventy-seven  acres,  beautifully  laid  out 
in  walks,  lawns,  shrubberies,  flower-beds,  and  avenues  of 
stately  trees  of  all  kinds.  The  menageries,  aviaries,  etc., 
said  to  be  very  fine  and  perfect,  we  did  not  see,  as  some 
special  ticket  was  necessary,  with  which  we  were  unpro- 
vided, but  as  we  had  seen  the  magnificent  collection  at  the 
"  Zoo,"  in  Regent's  Park,  we  were  not  much  disappointed. 
Besides,  the  day  being  excessively  warm,  and  the  crowd 
immense — the  greatest  we  had  seen  in  Paris — M.  and  I  being 
fatigued  with  the  heat  and  dust,  having  with  some  diffi- 
culty hired  a  couple  of  chairs,  took  up  our  station  beneath 
some  fine  shady  trees  near  a  basin  and  fountain,  in  the 
former  of  which  a  seal  and  some  water-fowl  were  disport- 
ing, and  while  enjoying  the  coolness  of  the  place  watched 
the  motley  crowd  go  by,  the  junior  members  of  our 
party  meanwhile  visiting  the  cages  of  such  animals  as 
could  be  seen. 

Judging  from  our  observations  to-day,  I  am  not  at  all 
inclined  to  concur  with  the  usually  expressed  opinion 
that  a  French  crowd  is  better  dressed  or  more  orderly 
than  a  similar  gathering  in  England.  I  must  confess  to 
some  disapointment,  but  certainly  the  women,  especially 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        245 

of  the  humbler  classes,  did  not,  in  our  opinions,  compare 
favourably  either  in  dress  or  style  with  their  London  sis- 
ters; and  the  universal  blouse  is  not  an  elegant  garment 
for  the  sterner  sex.  Only  the  numerous  gay  and  brilliant 
military  uniforms  of  one  kind  or  other  relieved  the  crowd 
from  absolute  dinginess,  but  their  good  humour  was  per- 
fect. 

On  a  subsequent  day,  as  a  change  from  our  usual  modes 
of  locomotion,  we  went  by  Chemin  de  fer  de  ceinture  to  the 
Place  de  la  Concorde,  on  our  way  to  the  Bois  de  Boulogne. 
But  before  proceeding  any  further  I  would  like  to  explain 
that  in  some  respects  it  (the  railway)  is  very  similar  to  the 
"Underground"  in  London,  now  plunging  into  darkness 
and  again  flashing  into  light.  Some  of  the  carriages  are 
two  tiers  or  stories  high,  and  are  pleasant  enough  when 
your  route  lies  almost  in  line  of  the  fortifications  and  in 
the  open  air,  as  it  often  does.  The  drawback  is  that  the 
upper  ones  are  low  and  difficult  (to  me)  of  both  ingress 
and  egress ;  but  being  open  at  the  sides,  and  the  track 
encompassing  the  city,  the  trip  by  them  is  very  enjoy- 
able in  fine  weather.  Taking  a  fiacre  at  the  above  Place, 
we  drove  slowly  up  the  beautiful  Champs  Elysees,  now 
alive  with  equipages  and  gay  groups  at  cafes  and  gardens, 
through  the  avenue  of  that  name  to  the  Place  de  l'Etoile. 
Here  we  turned  into  the  splendid  Avenue  du  Bois  de 
Boulogne,  110  yards  wide,  planted  with  clumps  of  fine 
trees  and  rarest  shrubs,  leading  up  to  the  Porte  Dauphine , 
by  which  entrance  is  obtained  into  this  magnificent 
pleasaunce. 

The  Bois  de  Boulogne  is  in  extent  about  2,000  acres, 
and  occupies  the  site  of  the  ancient  forest  of  Rouvray.     It 


246         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

had  been  suffered  to  degenerate  almost  into  a  stunted 
wood,  but  was  by  Louis  Napoleon  converted  in  a  great 
measure  to  what  it  now  is.  Entering  where  we  did  a 
noble  avenue  of  more  than  half  a  mile  long  leads  to  the 
great  Lake,  on  your  right  being  the  Pavilion  Chinois,  a 
cafe-restaurant  of  Chinese  design,  as  its  name  indicates. 
The  lakes  are  of  considerable  extent,  well  stocked  with  a 
variety  of  water-fowl  and  plenty  of  pleasure  boats  for  hire. 
One  of  them  contains  two  islands,  joined  by  a  rustic  bridge, 
on  the  larger  of  which  is  a  Swiss  chalet,  or  cafe-restaurant. 
The  whole  of  the  space  is  beautifully  laid  out,  every 
advantage  being  taken  of  the  natural  formation  of  the 
ground  to  enhance  its  charms  by  artificial  means. 

Many  miles  of  drives,  rides  and  promenades  wander 
deviously  about,  the  whole  extent  of  the  grounds  being 
literally  planted  with  fine  trees,  shrubs  and  flowers.  The 
Longchamps  river  is  led  through  the  woods,  and  made  to 
form  an  artificial  but  most  realistic  cascade,  where  a  sheet 
of  water  some  fifty  feet  high,  behind  which  you  can  walk, 
falls  into  a  pool  and  meanders  away.  Close  to  this  is  the 
Carrefour  de  Longchamps,  a  fine  cafe-restaurant,  pretty 
liberally  supplied  with  open-air  guests  regaling  them- 
selves at  small  tables  under  the  umbrageous  shade  this 
fine  summer  afternoon  ;  gay  groups  were  scattered  beneath 
the  trees  almost  all  over  the  vast  space,  and  apparently 
well  provided  with  creature  comforts.  Many  carriages 
and  horsemen,  too,  were  present,  but  in  neither  case  were 
the  turn-outs,  with  a  few  exceptions,  very  first  rate,  the 
reason  being,  I  suppose,  that  the  season  was  too  far 
advanced  and  the  owners  of  the  finer  equipages  not  vis- 
ible.    Near  to  this  is  the  celebrated   Longchamps  race- 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         247 


course  with  its  elegant  grand-stand  and  stalls,  capable  of 
accommodating  five  thousand  spectators. 

How  beautiful  all  this  is,  and  how  much  we  enjoyed  it 
I  leave  to  your  imagination,  as  well  as  the  spectacle  it 
must  have  presented  some  fourteen  years  ago,  when  the 
German  army  was  quartered  here.  Parisians  speak  of 
this  with,  I  suppose,  some  natural  bitterness,  charging 
them  with  wanton  destruction  of  rare  and  beautiful  trees, 
shrubs,  etc.,  and  all  sorts  of  minor  atrocities,  without,  I 
think,  fairly  considering  how  difficult  it  must  be,  even 
with  the  sternest  discipline,  to  prevent  outrages  of  some 
kind  among  vast  bodies  of  men.  Besides,  it  is  said  that 
during  the  German  occupation  the  Bois  was  always  gay  with 
pleasure  parties,  and  the  cafe-restaurants  doing  a  u  roar- 
ing trade."  Now  all  traces  of  any  devastation  that  may 
have  been  committed  either  by  men  or  horses  are  obliter- 
ated, let  us  trust  forever,  and  only  beauty  and  peace 
remains. 

I  begin  to  think  we  have  been  long  enough  within  the 
line  of  fortifications  encircling  Paris,  and  so  beg  your  com- 
pany on  a  trip— by  river — to  the  Pare  de  Saint-Cloud. 
This  excursion  took  place  on  the  20th  of  August,  being, 
as  you  are  aware,  the  writer's  birthday,  of  which  he 
received  many  valued  recognitions  from  both  sides  the 
English  channel,  and  it  was  made  a  family  party  of  in 
honour  of  the  event.  Taking  boat  at  the  Pont  d'Jena 
we  passed  quickly  down  stream  by  sundry  small  islands 
in  the  river,  on  which  cafe-restaurants  were  built  and 
holiday-makers  enjoying  themselves,  and  at  one  of  which 
several  nice  little  boats  were  lying,  the  name  of  Robinson 
above  the  landing  steps  accounting  to  me  for  the  circum- 


248         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

stance.  Down  yet  past  willow-fringed  banks,  where  laden 
coal-barges  are  moored  under  their  shade,  and  the  everlast- 
ing fishing  going  on  by  the  family  on  board.  On  previous 
occasions  I  had  seen  these  same  craft  waiting  in  different 
places,  and  being  without  masts  and  no  towing-path  visi- 
ble, had  wondered  how  they  get  up  the  stream  to  the  city. 
To-day  the  mystery  was  solved  by  meeting  a  huge  steam 
monster  coming  up  the  river  with  along  string  of  them  in 
tow.  'Twas  not  what  we  understand  as  a  tug-boat,  its 
mode  of  proceeding  being  by  a  chain  laid  along  the  bottom 
of  the  river,  in  its  middle,  which  is  taken  on  board  forward, 
passing  over  a  large  drum  driven  by  steam  and  falling 
back  again  over  the  stern  into  its  original  position  in  the 
bed  of  the  stream.  The  plan  seems  to  work  well,  but 
would  not  be  practicable  in  a  river  filled  with  shipping. 
I  think  Mark  Twain  mentions  a  similar  mode  of  procedure 
with  lumber-rafts  on  a  German  river,  in  his  "  Innocents 
Abroad." 

We  soon  landed,  and  walked  up  an  open  paved  space  in 
front  of  the  principal  entrance  into  the  park.  Here  we 
met  a  large  "  bus,"  resplendent  in  panel  and  gilt,  with 
four  fine  horses  ;  it  was  filled  by  a  party  of  Cook's  tourists, 
who  had  come  down  from  Paris  by  the  right  bank  of  the 
river,  and  were  now  returning. 

Proceeding  on  foot,  carriages  not  being  permitted  within 
the  gates,  we  strolled  leisurely  up  the  main  avenue,  rest- 
ing occasionally  beneath  the  trees  and  watching  the 
passers-by.  Among  them  was  a  wedding  party,  pro- 
nounced by  the  Professor  to  be  of  the  sewing-girl  and  arti- 
san class.  They  came  in  a  sort  of  bridal  procession  of 
several  couples,  male  and  female,  led  by  the  bride  (a  very 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        249 


fine-looking  girl)  and  bridegroom — the  former  arrayed 
in  a  white  silk  dress,  white  satin  boots,  kid  gloves  of  same 
colour,  a  huge  bouquet  in  her  hand,  and  depending  from 
her  orange-blossom-crowned  head  a  long  white  veil  reach- 
ing almost  to  the  ground  behind.  They  seemed  thor- 
oughly to  enjoy  the  display  they  made,  and  I  am  told  it  is 
the  one  great  ambition  of  their  lives,  among  girls  of  this 
class,  to  make  it,  even  if  it  costs  a  year  or  more  savings 
and  the  wedding  gown  never  sees  the  light  again.  This 
was  not  by  any  means  the  first  time  we  had  seen  similar 
displays  of  bridal  parties  in  the  streets,  but  had  never 
before  been  struck  with  such  exuberance  of  joy  as  seemed 
to  possess  this  one.  We  took  up  our  quarters  beneath  a 
clump  of  trees  contiguous  to  the  Grand  Cascade,  watch- 
ing with  pleasure  the  excitement  of  A's  bonnie  English- 
looking  face,  the  gambols  of  the  younger  children  upon 
the  turf,  and  their  amusement  with  the  little  fox-terrier 
"  Snap,"  who,  by  the  way,  was  much  admired  and  com- 
mented on  by  passers-by  for  his  beauty. 

After  a  while,  leaving  the  rest  of  our  party  under  the 
shade  of  the  trees,  the  Professor  and  I  walked  up  the  hill 
to  the  ruins  of  the  chateau  crowning  its  summit.  Much 
historical  interest  attaches  to  this  place,  the  origin  of  the 
palace  dating  from  Catherine  de  Medicis,  who  had  a 
country-house  on  its  site.  During  the  League  Henry  III. 
was  assassinated  here  by  Jacques  Clement,  and  in  1690 
Princess  Henrietta  of  England,  Duchess  of  Orleans,  died 
within  its  walls,  said  from  poison.  In  the  gallery  of 
Apollo  the  imperial  crown  was  offered  to  the  first  Na- 
poleon in  1804,  and  in  the  same  place  the  last  of  that 
name  was  proclaimed  emperor  of  the  French,  nearly  half 


250         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

a  century  later.  Queen  Victoria  visited  the  palace  in  1855 
for  a  few  days,  and  in  1870  that  fatal  act,  the  declaration 
of  war  against  Prussia,  was  decided  on  and  signed  at  a 
council  held  here. 

The  view  from  the  eminence  on  which  the  palace  stood 
is  very  fine  indeed,  looking  either  up  or  down  the  valley 
of  the  Seine,  or  away  to  the  great  city  on  its  farther  bank. 
Immediately  below  you,  and  stretching  far  away,  lies  the 
noble  park  with  its  fine  avenues  of  trees,  gardens,  cascades 
and  fountains.  In  the  rear  a  range  of  hills,  wooded,  in 
some  cases,  to  the  summit,  prominent  among  them  that 
crowned  by  the  fortification  of  Mont  Valerien ;  in  fact, 
everything  necessary  to  form  a  perfect  landscape,  and 
attract  or  enchant  the  eye. 

During  the  siege  of  Paris  the  Prussians  occupied  this 
palace  at  the  end  of  September,  1870,  but  not  being  found 
tenable  in  consequence  of  the  fire  of  Mont  Valerien,  then 
in  possession  of  the  French,  they  evacuated  the  place  on 
the  13th  of  October,  having  first  set  fire  to  it,  and  destroyed 
forever  the  beautiful  palace  and  noble  works  of  art  it  con- 
tained. Let  us  hope  the  exigencies  of  war  made  it  imper- 
atively necessary  ;  otherwise,  as  the  French  people  say,  it 
was  a  most  wanton  act. 

What  a  commentary  it  is  on  the  horrors  of  war  to  stand 
now  near  these  ruined  walls,  with  roof  fallen  in  and  blank, 
sightless  window-spaces  grinning  hideously,  and  then  to 
look  abroad  on  the  fair,  peaceful  landscape  that  surrounds 
you.  Will  nations  or  their  rulers  never  cease  to  refer 
their  disputes  to  the  arbitrament  of  the  sword,  by  follow- 
ing the  wise  and  merciful  example  set  them  by  the  two 
great  Anglo-Saxon  peoples  ? 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         251 

Perhaps  I  ought  to  mention  that  a  high  board  palisade 
surrounds  the  ruins,  to  prevent  accidents  to  persons  who 
may  be  tempted  to  enter  their  precincts. 

After  strolling  to  our  heart's  content  among  the  still 
remaining  beauties  of  the  place,  we  took  boat  again  for 
Paris,  having  had  a  most  enjoyable  day,  and  the  writer  a 
memorable  birthday. 

Another  occasion  saw  us  en  route  by  river  for  Sevres  to 
see   the   celebrated   Government   Porcelain   Manufactory. 
Landing  at  the  quay,  ten  minutes'  walk  brought  us  to  our 
destination,   a   large   range   of  buildings    with   a    rather 
imposing   entrance,   attained  by  a  flight  or   broad  steps. 
As  the  Professor  had  obtained  an  official  pass,  we  made 
part  of  a  party  admitted  to  see  the  mode  of  manufacture  ; 
a  couple  of  workmen  are  set  apart  specially  for  the  pur- 
pose, visitors  not  being  admitted  into  the  actual  factory, 
as  they  are  in  the  Royal  Porcelain  Works  at  Worcester. 
It  was  very  amusing  to  watch  how  the  lump  of  plastic 
clay,  whirling  round  upon  a  horizontal  wheel,  revolving 
fast  or  slow  as  the  workman  required,  assumed  different 
forms  of  grace  and  beauty  under  his  deft  manipulation. 
The  mode  of  painting,  too,  where  the  object  operated  on 
sometimes   revolvecl  also,  was  interesting,  but  the  whole 
thing  being  done  in  a  perfunctory  kind  of  manner  rather 
disappointed   me,  as  I  had   thought  to  see  some   of  the 
exquisite  works  of  art,  for  which  this  place  is  so  justly 
famous,  in  actual  course  of  manufacture.     Our  guide  took 
us  then  to  the  great  ovens  where  the  clay  is  baked,  all 
vitrified  inside  by  the  intense  heat. 

From  hence  we  strolled,  now  without  a  guide,  through 
vast  galleries— with  many  visitors — all  filled  with  a  most 


252         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 


superb  collection  of  articles  of  pottery  of  every  age  and 
nation,  from  early  Egyptian,  Indian  and  Greek,  down  to 
the  present  day.  Amid  so  much  that  was  beautiful  in 
form,  colour  or  design  it  would  be  difficult  to  single  out 
any  article  for  special  mention,  but  there  was  one  vase  so 
exquisite  in  its  loveliness  that  it  struck  us  all,  its  price 
being  only  60,000  francs  !  Another  beautifully  executed 
painting  was  a  large  plaque  representing  the  sinking  of 
"  La  Vengeur,"  a  French  line  of  battle  ship,  in  the  action 
with  the  British  off  Cape  Ushant,  on  the  "  glorious  1st  of 
June,"  1794.  Being  deserted  by  the  rest  of  the  fleet,  she 
is  going  down  with  all  her  colours  flying,  the  captain  hav- 
ing refused  to  strike  his  flag ;  the  rendering  of  the  whole 
is  most  life-like  and  realistic. 

I  was  very  desirous  of  purchasing  some  small  memento 
of  our  visit  here,  but  could  obtain  nothing  for  less  than 
twelve  dollars,  for  a  most  trivial  article,  which  was  beyond 
my  limit,  though  sometimes  they  have  cheaper  things  for 
sale. 

Leaving  the  museum  highly  gratified  with  its  wonder- 
ful collection,  we  strolled  back  to  the  river's  bank  to  await 
our  boat.  Passing  a  cabaret  on  our  way,  I  was  amused  by 
seeing  on  a  bracket  over  the  doorwa/  a  kedge-anchor — 
of  antique  shape  certainly — with  the  legend,  '%  Relique  de 
la  Vengeur,"  being  professedly  from  the  ship  mentioned 
above.  How  it  was  obtained  from  "ocean's  illimitable 
depths,"  who  can  say  ? 

On  the  morning  of  this  day  I  had  been  with  the  Pro- 
fessor on  a  pedestrian  tour  to  the  Halles  Centrales  or 
great  market  of  the  city,  and  through  many  of  the  older 
streets.     This  vast  structure  is  chiefly  built  of  brick,  the 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        253 

frame-work  of  the  roof  and  its  supports  being  of  iron,  and 
the  whole  covered  in  with  glass.  'Tis  divided  by  wide 
arcades  into  I  do  not  know  how  many  pavilions,  where 
every  conceivable  product  of  the  animal  or  vegetable  king- 
doms in  Europe,  suitable  for  the  food  of  man,  is  displayed 
in  tempting  profusion.  Articles  of  luxury  in  the  shape 
of  flowers,  fruit,  etc.,  are  almost  without  end,  and  all  so 
beautifully  arranged,  and  in  such  perfect  order.  I  was 
utterly  disgusted  in  my  reminiscences  and  comparisons 
with  Covent  Garden,  except,  perhaps,  in  regard  to  the 
flowers,  and  for  them  perhaps  the  season  is  growing  late. 
Looking  at  the  staid,  quiet,  matronly  women  presiding  at 
the  different  stalls,  I  wondered  were  they  the  descendants 
of  the  Dames  de  la  Holies  who  have  erewhile  played  so 
awfully  prominent  a  part  in  the  history  of  French  revolu- 
tions ;  it  seemed  impossible.  The  thoroughfares  in  this 
quarter  are  full  of  life,  interest  and  bustle,  and  the  noble 
old  church  of  St.  Eustache,  close  by,  has  great  attraction 
for  the  antiquary.  Taken  altogether,  with  its  narrow, 
roughly-paved  streets  thronged  with  carts  and  vehicles 
for  work,  you  could  almost  fancy  yourself  in  a  part  of  old 
London,  barring  the  speech  and  certain  peculiarities  of 
dress  among  the  lower  orders. 

One  more  excursion  and  I  think  I  shall  about  have 
exhausted  my  Parisian  budget.  Again  we  go  down  the 
Seine  past  the  wooded  and  fort-crowned  heights  of  its  left 
bank,  with  the  villages  of  Mendon,  Sevres,  St.  Cloud  and 
Suresnes  on  the  margin  of  the  stream.  At  the  latter  place 
we  landed  and  proceeded  by  rail  through  charming 
scenery  to  the  fair  town  of  Versailles.  This  city,  so  cele- 
brated from  the  historical  events  that  have  occurred  here, 


254         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

is  very  handsome  with  its  long  straight  streets  crossing 
each  other  at  right  angles,  and  many  open  spaces.  An  air 
of  quiet  and  repose  seems  to  pervade  the  place,  there 
being  little  or  no  trade,  and  its  inhabitants  apparently 
pleasure-seekers,  not  workers. 

Driving  up  the  spacious  street  from  the  railway  station, 
our  fiacre  soon  deposited  us  within  the  limits  of  the  park, 
at  the  entrance — through  the  Place  d'Armes — of  the  Cour 
dSHonneur,  leading  up  to  the  palace  of  Versailles.  Both 
of  these  spaces  are  paved  with  cobble-stones,  very  unpleas- 
ant for  pedestrians,  and  detracting  no  little  from  their  enjoy- 
ment. In  the  latter  place  is  a  large  bronze  equestrian 
statue  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  other  statues  of  distinguished 
soldiers  and  statesmen  'are  ranged  on  either  side  of  the 
court.  This  face  of  the  palace,  which  is  next  the  city,  is 
not  very  beautiful  or  imposing,  being  part  of  the  ancient 
chateau  ;  the  facade  fronting  on  the  park,  gardens  and 
fountains  is  veiy  much  finer.  Originally  this  was  a 
hunting-box,  erected  by  Louis  XIII.  His  successor,  Louis 
XIV.,  lavished  enormous  sums  on  its  reconstruction  and 
embellishment ;  30,000  soldiers,  it  is  said,  were  diverted 
from  their  martial  occupation  to  assist  in  digging  excava- 
tions for  fountains,  raising  terraces  and  laying  out  the 
grounds.  It  was  subsequently  occupied  by  Louis  XV. 
and  Louis  XVI.,  and  sacked  by  the  wild  Parisian  mob 
during  the  revolution  occurring  in  the  latter  unhappy 
monarch's  reign.  Louis  Phillipe  conceived  the  idea  of 
transforming  this  magnificent  palace  into  a  museum  to 
contain  trophies  of  the  victories  of  France,  as  the  follow- 
ing inscription  on  the  east  facade  testifies :  "A  toutes  les 
gloires  de  la  France,"  since  which  time  it  has  been  devoted 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        255 

to  that  purpose.  The  superb  and  apparently  endless 
suites  of  rooms,  salons,  galleries  and  cabinets,  gorgeous  in 
gold,  painted  ceilings  and  every  decoration  that  art  or  lux- 
ury could  suggest,  exceed  in  magnificence  anything  we 
had  seen  before.  Each  room  or  gallery,  whether  on  the 
ground-floor  or  above,  is  filled  with  works  of  art,  statuary 
and  paintings,  arranged  in  chronological  order,  illustrating 
events  in  French  history,  the  most  celebrated,  perhaps, 
being  those  of  Horace  Vernet  and  of  David  portraying  the 
career  of  Napoleon.  The  Grande  gallerie  de  Louis  X/F., 
called  also  the  Salon  des  Glaces  from  the  mirrors  that  line 
its  sides  and  slope  of  the  ceiling,  is  sumptuous  beyond 
anything  you  can  imagine  in  its  size  and  decorations.  It 
is  242  feet  long,  by  35  feet  broad  and  43  feet  high,  and 
looking  down  here  through  apparently  endless  vistas  of 
similar  apartments,  you  wonder  at  the  temerity  of  any 
monarch  daring  to  expend  such  vast  sums  as  this  must 
have  cost,  wrung  by  hard  exactions  and  grinding  tyranny 
from  an  almost  starving  people. 

It  was  in  this  superb  chamber  that  King  William  of 
Prussia  was  proclaimed  emperor  of  Germany  on  the  18th 
of  January,  1871.  Philip  the  V.  of  Spain  and  several 
French  kings  were  born  within  the  walls  of  this  palace. 

But  what  interests  us  more  is  that  here  was  signed  the 
treaty  by  which  Great  Britain  recognized  the  independence 
of  the  United  States  of  America,  in  1783,  happily,  as  I 
think,  for  both  nations.  And  I  trust  mother  and  daughter 
may  continue  to  advance  in  amity  and  mutual  respect,  the 
great  exponents  of  freedom,  civil  and  religious  liberty  and 
constitutional  government  to  the  peoples  of  the  earth. 

Almost  satiated  with   the  splendour  of   these  grand 


256         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  TEE   OLD   WORLD. 

state  apartments,  and  bearing  in  mind  what  history  tells 
us  of  the  presumption,  arrogance,  profligacy  and  luxury 
of  their  former  occupants,  the  courtiers  and  dames  of  the 
Grand  Monarque  and  his  successor,  the  feastings,  revel- 
lings,  exactions  and  worse  of  the  royal  favourites  Madame 
de  Montespan,  Madame  de  Maintenon,  Madame  de  Pom- 
padour, and  Madame  du  Barri,  the  people  the  meanwhile 
suffering  from  grinding  oppression  and  poverty,  we  turn 
with  a  feeling  almost  of  relief  to  the  suite  of  apartments 
occupied  by  Marie  Antoinette. 

I  do  not  wonder  the  French  people  rebelled  against  the 
pride,  cupidity  and  iniquity  of  their  monarchs,  but  it 
does  seem  hard  that  the  retribution  we  would  accord  to 
Louis  XIV.  and  Louis  XV.  fell  on  their  good-natured  but 
meek  successor. 

The  furnishing  and  adornments  of  the  poor  queen's 
apartments  are  not  in  the  gorgeous  style  of  the  rest  of  the 
palace;  her  bed-chamber  and  boudoir  were,  I  think,  tapes- 
tried throughout,  the  bathing-closet  being  hung  with  pale 
yellow  satin  and  portraits  of  the  royal  family  of  France. 
On  one  of  the  doors  we  were  shown  a  beautifully  chased 
and  finished  lock,  the  work  of  her  husband  Louis  XVI., 
who,  you  know,  was  more  skilled  as  a  locksmith  than  as 
statesman,  warrior,  or  king.  In  one  room  of  the  suite  is  a 
recess  in  which  a  series  of  mirrors  are  so  arranged  that 
you  see  yourself  headless,  and  they  tell  you  Marie  Antoi- 
nette always  shuddered  on  entering  that  room.  If  so, 
why  were  they  not  removed?  She  could  be  imperious 
enough  on  occasion,  beside  which  her  husband  loved  her 
too  dearly  to  thwart  her  wishes.  A  narrow  staircase  lead- 
ing from  the  queen's  apartments  is  pointed  out  as  that  by 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         257 

which  the  unfortunate  lady  vainly  attempted  to  fly  when 
the  infuriate  mob  burst  into  the  palace  on  the  5th  of 
October,  1789. 

Having  devoted  as  much  time  as  we  could  spare  to  the 
interior  of  the  palace  we  now  went  to  see  what  we  could 
of  its  exterior  beauties.  In  front  is  a  spacious  and  splen- 
did terrace  embellished  with  fine  statues,  and  surrounded 
by  gardens  containing  some  of  the  fountains — issuing 
from  groups  of  statuary — that  have  made  Versailles  so 
famous.  Descending  from  the  terrace  in  front  of  the 
palace  a  noble  avenue,  through  the  Tapis  Vert,  leads  to  the 
Basin  of  Latona  and  the  Fountain  of  Apollo  beyond,  end- 
ing in  the  lake  at  its  extreme,  and  the  Grand  and  Petit 
Trianon.  Time  did  not  permit  us  to  visit  either  of  these, 
nor  the  fine  fountains  called  the  Basin  of  Neptune,  the 
Bosquet  du  Roi,  or  the  Bosquet  de  la  Salle  du  Bal,  where 
courtiers  and  fine  dames  were  wont  to  disport  themselves 
on  summer  evenings.  We  were  fain  to  be  content  with 
distant  views  of  them,  and  if  the  avenues  and  alleys  lead- 
ing thereto  were  covered  with  the  same  abominable  white 
gravel- stones,  like  so  many  small  marbles,  as  the  terrace 
in  front  of  the  palace  is,  it  would  have  been  "  a  pilgrimage  " 
indeed  to  reach  them.  How  the  bewigged,  laced  and 
ruffled  Strephons,  Corydons  and  Silvios,  the  bepatched, 
hooped  and  painted  Delias,  Cvrinnas  and  Amaryllises,  the 
swains  and  shepherdesses — as  in  the  fantastic  language  of 
the  day  the  belles  and  beaux  of  the  court  called  them- 
selves— managed  to  get  along  on  their  high  red-heeled 
shoes  over  these  terraces,  if  they  are  similar  now  to  what 
they  were  then,  is  a  mystery  to  me. 

Returning  to  Paris  by  rail  in  the  "gloaming,"  passing 

17 


258         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

through  fair  scenery,  my  mind  was  filled  with  thoughts 
conjured  up  by  what  we  had  seen  to-day,  and  the  in- 
cidents and  events  connected  therewith.  By  the  time  the 
city  was  reached  they  had  culminated  into  a  feeling  that 
the  French  people  had  through  many  horrors,  much 
tribulation,  and  prolonged  struggles  with  their  rulers, 
become  possessed  of  parks,  palaces,  gardens,  museums, 
theatres  and  other  sources  of  amusement,  free  to  all,  that 
the  most  exacting  people  could  demand.  Let  us  hope 
they  know  and  fully  appreciate  these  privileges  and  are 
satisfied  with  what  they  have. 

We  took  a  trip  by  rail  one  day  to  the  pretty  town  of 
Montmorency,  to  visit  our  old  friends  the  De  V's,  whom  we 
had  known  "  lang  syne  "  at  the  islands,  and  whom  you  will 
remember.  We  found  them  living  in  a  regular  Hono- 
lulu-built house  constructed  of  wood,  on  one  floor,  and 
with  broad  verandas,  pleasantly  situated  in  a  fine  garden 
of  fruit  and  flowers — the  former  of  fine  flavour  as  we  can 
testify,  and  the  latter  of  great  beauty.  The  mansion  men- 
tioned is  not  the  only  one  the  ground  contains,  as  all  the 
family,  married  and  unmarried,  live  together  in  happy 
patriarchal  fashion,  but  requiring  more  room,  they  built  it 
so  out  of  aloha  for  happy  days  spent  in  Hawaii  nei.  Be 
sure  the  time  passed  pleasantly  and  rapidly  in  talking  of 
old  times  and  old  and  mutual  friends,  and  as  none  of 
them  had  forgotten  their  English  our  conversation  was 
easy  and  pleasant.  Montmorency  is  charmingly  situated 
among  the  hills,  affording  beautiful  views  of  the  surround- 
ing country,  and  we  enjoyed  our  visit  very  much,  Mon- 
sieur, Madame,  H. — a  fine,  tall  young  fellow  over  six  feet 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        259 


—and  his  sister  accompanying  us  back  to  the  little  rail- 
way station. 

I  was  rather  amused  with  an  incident  that  occurred  on 
this  trip.  At  one  of  the  stations  stopped  at,  a  jolly -looking 
woman  got  into  the  train  carrying  two  baskets  full  of  most 
tempting  and  luscious-looking  fruit  of  various  kinds.  M. 
remarked,  "  What  beautiful  fruit "  (with  an  eye  to  a  prob- 
able purchase)  ;  "  I  suppose  they  are  going  in  to  the  Paris 
market."  The  owner  of  the  coveted  delicacies,  looking 
toward  her,  replied  with  an  unmistakable  British  accent: 
"  Oh  dear  no,  madam,  they  are  from  our  own  garden,  and 
not  for  sale."  Subsequent  revelations  told  us  she  had 
lived  in  France  for  many  years,  but  did  not  apparently 
appreciate  her  compatriots  much,  for  we  got  none  of  the 
fruit. 

Well,  all  mundane  things,  pleasant  or  otherwise,  must 
have  an  end  ;  some,  alas  !  all  too  soon,  as  did  our  visit  to 
Paris,  "  fair  land  of  France,"  and  our  dear  children.  The 
dreaded  hour  had  come,  and  we  must  depart,  but  I  spare 
you  the  details  ;  they  are  too  painful.  The  day  was  bright 
and  sunny,  as  was  our  usual  luck,  and  Boulogne  looked 
brighter  and  sunnier,  and  the  quay  more  crowded  and 
gayer  with  fish-wives,  soldiers  and  loungers,  even  than  it 
did  on  our  former  visit. 

We  embarked  at  2  p.  m.,  got  to  Folkestone  at  3:40, 
being  favoured  with  a  smooth  sea  and  little  wind,  and 
arrived  at  the  Charing  Cross  station  in  dear  old  smoky, 
roaring  London  at  ten  minutes  past  5,  just  seven  hours 
from  Paris.  The  customs  authorities  gave  us  no  trouble 
about  our  baggage,  all  they  seemed  to  care  or  enquire  for 
being  cigars,   perfumery,  or  silverware.      Our  fair  little 


260         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

friend,  to  whose  good  offices  we  owe  so  much,  was  awaiting 
us,  and  we  were  soon  again  in  the  quiet  haven  of  Craven 
street. 

Now  you  want  to  know  which  city  I  like  best,  Paris  or 
London.  And  I  answer,  I  think  without  prejudice,  but 
candidly,  honestly  and  unreservedly,  London !  Not  that 
you  can  institute  or  draw  any  actual  comparison  between 
the  two  cities,  so  utterly  unlike  are  they,  or  perhaps  give 
any  very  definite  reason  for  the  preference.  I  think  the 
answer  of  a  fair  cousin  of  the  Professor's,  to  whom  the  same 
question  was  addressed,  is  as  good  a  one  as  can  be  made  : 
"  Paris  is  coquette,  London  is  grand  !  "  A.  having  come 
up  to  town  to  meet  us,  we  spent  a  few  days  in  her  com- 
pany,  enjoying  it  much,  seeing  some  of  the  "  sights  "  and 
making  a  few  necessary  purchases  previous  to  our  depar- 
ture from  London. 

Having  completed  all  our  arrangements,  made  our  last 
adieus  to  our  friends  at  Chelsea  and  other  places,  we  bade 
a  final  farewell  with  much  regret  to  the  great  city  we  had 
enjoyed  so  much,  and  where  we  had  received  so  many  and 
unexpected  kindnesses. 


VII. 


ON  the  last  day  of  August  we  took  our  departure  from 
Charing  Cross  for  the  "West  Countrie,"  being  as  we  now 
considered  ourselves  "  homeward  bound."  A  light  rain  was 
falling,  which  our  kind  friend  Mrs.  H.  says  was  weeping 
for  the  parting.  On  we  speed  through  •Woking,  Basing- 
stoke, Salisbury — with  its  beautiful  cathedral  spire— Yeo- 
vil, past  fair  old  Exeter,  to  Tavistock.  Here  it  ceased  to 
rain  and  the  remainder  of  our  journey  skirting  Dartmoor, 
or  down  the  beautiful  valleys  of  the  Tavy  or  Plym,  was 
truly  a  vision  of  delight.  Nature  seemed  lovelier  than 
ever  just  emerging  from  her  bath,  and  the  wondrous  effects 
of  light  and  shade  on  moor,  forest  and  stream,  with  the 
brilliant  rain-drops  hanging  from  every  branch  and  spray, 
glittering  in  the  rays  of  the  westering  sun,  I  do  not  think 
I  ever  shall  forget,  or  the  freshness  and  exhilaration  of  the 
whole  scene. 

A  few  more  days  were  spent  in  pleasant  Plymouth,  but 
alas!  all  too  short  and  fleeting,  when  inexorable  time 
warned  us  that  the  hour  of  departure  had  come,  and  we 
were  forced  again  to  tear  ourselves  away  from  those  we 
held  so  dear,  with  the  dim  uncertainty  of  the  future  be- 
fore us.  I  will  not  dilate  on  this,  it  is  too  painful  for  con- 
templation, but  assure  you  we  were  very  thankful  for  what 
we  had  been  permitted  to  enjoy. 

On  the  17th  of  September,  the  weather  now  growing 

261 


262        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

sensibly  cooler,  we  left  the  Mutley  station  by  Great 
Western  Railway,  passing  over  what  had  now  become  to 
us  familiar  ground,  and  at  Exeter  met  on  the  platform  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Blundell,  formerly  a  member  of  the  Anglican 
Mission  in  Hawaii,  and  now  rector  of  some  parish  in  the 
vicinity. 

We  got  to  Bristol  at  3  p.  m.  and  to  Worcester  at  5:30  p. 
m.,  where  we  decided  to  stay  the  night,  sleeping  at  the 
Great  Western  Hotel.  This  ancient  city,  whose  story  is 
full  of  "  the  battles,  sieges,  fortunes,  it  has  passed,"  is  well 
situated  in  the  lePvely  valley  of  the  Severn,  the  waters  of 
which  once  washed  its  walls,  and  are  now  crossed  by  a 
handsome  stone  bridge  of  several  arches,  the  view  from 
whence  up  and  down  stream,  enlivened  as  all  English 
rivers  are  with  pleasure-boats  of  various  kinds,  is  perfectly 
charming.  Lying  as  the  city  does  in  so  fertile  a  valley, 
will  account  for  its  early  disturbed  state  and  continuous 
settlement  by  various  races  of  men  :  originally  British, 
then  Roman  and  Saxon,  when  it  was  called  "  Wignorna 
Ceaster,"  easily  softened  into  the  English  Worcester,  under 
which  name  it  is  celebrated  as  one  of  the  most  ancient 
episcopal  cities  in  England,  as  well  as  for  the  great  battle 
of  1651  between  the  forces  of  King  Charless  II.  and  the 
Parliamentarians,  so  disastrous  to  the  former's  cause.  In 
the  Guildhall,  a  massive  structure  of  Queen  Anne's  time, 
with  statues  of  that  queen  and  the  two  Charles'  adorning  its 
front,  we  saw  a  gun  and  nine  suits  of  armour,  with  many 
weapons,  all  relics  from  the  above  fatal  field.  Our  visit  to 
the  cathedral  was  necessarily  short,  as  matins  began  a  few 
minutes  after  our  entrance,  but  still  we  saw  sufficient  to 
assure  us  of  its  great  beauty,  and  that  the  accounts  we 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         263 

had  read  of  it  and  its  beautiful  monuments  were  by  no 
means  overrated.  In  the  vicinity  are  several  ancient  man- 
sions, among  them  the  former  Bishop's  Palace,  and  per- 
vading all,  such  a  sense  of  quiet  calm  and  repose  as, 
indeed,  seemed  to  us  to  be  the  general  characteristic  of 
the  city. 

We  were  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  leave  without  a  visit  to 
the  museum  and  the  Royal  Porcelain  Works — the  latter 
so  justly  celebrated  as  to  have  obtained  the  Diploma  of 
Honour  (the  highest  award)  at  the  Vienna  Exhibition  of 
1873,  and  at  Paris  in  1878  the  Gold  Medal  and  Legion  of 
Honour.  We  consoled  ourselves  by  looking  over  a  beau- 
tiful collection  of  ceramic  art  in  one  of  the  principal 
shops,  where  all  seemed  to  us  marvels  of  cheapness,  and 
purchasing  a  trifle  or  two  as  souvenirs  of  our  visit  to  this 
pleasant  city. 

Leaving  here  shortly  after  noon,  a  charming  ride 
through  the  usual  beautiful  country  of  an  hour  and  twenty 
minutes,  brought  us  to  what  I  think  is  one  of  the  prettiest 
as  well  as  most  interesting  market-towns  in  England,  viz., 
Stratford-upon-Avon,  birthplace  of  the  immortal  Shake- 
speare, and  shrine  of  many  pilgrims  besides  ourselves. 
How  strange  it  seems  that  with  so  beautiful  a  country 
surrounding  him,  and  sensitive  as  he  must  have  been  to 
all  the  sweet  influences  of  nature,  that  the  place  is  never 
once  mentioned  by  the  bard  in  either  play  or  poem. 

A  short  distance  from  the  railway  station,  which  is  just 
on  the  skirts  of  the  town,  an  urchin  accosted  us  with  the 
question,  no  doubt  usual  here  to  all  strangers,  "  Do  you 
want  to  see  Shakespeare's  house?"  Answering  in  the 
affirmative,  and  following  our  intelligent  little  guide  down 


264        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

sundry  clean,  well-kept,  quiet  streets,  on  the  corner  of  one 
of  them  a  tablet  informs   you   that   this   is  the  way   to 
Shakespeare's  house.     We  turned  into  Henley  street,  and 
soon  stood  under  the  gabled  porch  of  the  house  we  sought. 
A  pull  at  an  ancient-looking  bell,  handle  hanging  outside, 
was  answered  by  a  very  respectable  and  well-bred  man, 
who,  with  his  two  sisters,  are  custodians  of  the  place,  now 
belonging  to  the  Shakespeare  committee,  having  been  pur- 
chased by  them  in  1847.     It  is  a  half-timbered  structure 
of  two  stories,  with  attics,  and  three  gables  fronting  on  trie 
street.     Each  gable  has  a  window  in  it,  and  they,  as  well 
as  all  the  others  in  the  house,  are  casements,  filled  with  the 
small  lozenge-shaped  panes  of  glass  usual  in  old  edifices. 
In  the  principal  room  where  "gentle  Will  Shakespeare" 
first  saw   the  light  through    mayhap    much  of  the  glass 
still  existing,  every  pane  is  literally  covered  with  names 
of  visitors,  and  among  them  your  guide  points  with  evi- 
dent pride   to   that   of  another  great   enchanter,  Walter 
Scott.     None  are  allowed  to  be  written  now  save  in  the 
visitors'  books,  which   contain   those   of  many   eminent 
men  and  women  from  all  lands,  notably  of  our  kinsfolk 
of  the  Great  Republic  and  the  Colonies,  who  alike  with  us 
and  all  the  millions  who  speak  English  as  their  mother 
tongue,  are  inheritors  of  his  genius  and  his  fame.     There 
are  three  rooms  on  the  ground  floor,  the  one  you  enter  first 
being  the  ancient  kitchen  and  general  living  place,  with  wide, 
open  chimney,  in  which  it  is  said  the  poet  loved  to  sit  and 
perhaps  to  muse  on  some  of  his  own  sweet  creations.     The 
floor  is  of  stone,  now  broken  and  uneven,  having  been 
used  for  some  time  as  a  butcher's  shop,  but  is  allowed  to 
remain  as  when  it  came  into  the  hands  of  the  committee. 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD   WORLD.        265 

The  remaining  rooms  on  this  floor  are  fitted  up  as  a 
Shakespearian  museum,  and  contain  much  that  is  of 
interest,  documentary  and  otherwise,  relating  to  the  great 
bard — some  of  the  earliest  folios  of  his  works,  his  will, 
and  the  only  known  extant  letter  written  by  his  own  hand, 
on  some  pecuniary  business,  for  you  know  even  great  poets 
must  buy  and  sell  like  the  rest  of  us  poor  ordinary  mor- 
tals. Other  memorials  of  many  kinds  are  pointed  out  to 
you  by  the  gentle,  well-informed  sister  in  charge  of  these 
treasures,  among  them  an  undoubted  seal-ring  of  his 
beautifully  engraved,  with  the  initials  W.  S.  entwined  in 
a  tasselled  true-lover's  knot.  An  ancient  arm-chair  of 
carved  oak  is  said  to  have  been  the  one  occupied  by 
Shakespeare  when  presiding  among  convivial  and  con- 
genial spirits  at  the  "  Falcon  Inn,"  in  the  adjacent  village 
of  "  Drunken  Bidford,"  mentioned  in  the  epigram  attrib- 
uted to  him,  and  the  gilded  sign-board  of  the  ancient 
hostelry  bears  it  company.  Ascending  by  a  winding 
wooden  staircase  you  gain  the  room  where  he  was  born, 
and  which  looks  out  upon  the  quiet  sunny  street ;  its  walls 
are  profusely  covered  with  the  names  of  great  and  noted 
personages,  among  them  William  Makepeace  Thackeray,  as 
well  as  of  those  of  their  humbler  brethren,  but  presume 
to  writejiow  and  you  would  "  catch  it."  I  merely  pointed 
with  my  cane  to  the  wide  old-fashioned  fire-place,  when 
its  point  was  struck  down  with  a  frown,  but  no  audible 
comment  made  by  the  un-gentle  sister  presiding  here. 
The  ceilings  are  of  course  quite  low  and  do  not  look  very 
safe,  but  are  prevented  from  falling  by  bands  of  iron 
stretched  across  each  way.  No  one  is  permitted  to  go  into 
the  attics  above,  they  not  being  considered  fit  to  bear  the 


266        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

weight  of  visitors.  There  are  several  busts  and  portraits 
of  "  the  divine  William,"  all  with  a  certain  family  like- 
ness, but  the  most  notable  of  these  is  contained  in  a  fire- 
proof iron  safe,  built  to  fit  it,  in  a  small  adjoining  room. 
Why  it  is  considered  the  most  authentic  picture  I  do  not 
now  quite  recollect,  but  I  remember  being  told  that  it  was 
by  an  accident  it  was  discovered,  as  it  had  been  adorned 
with  a  huge  beard,  a  wide  hat  and  feathers,  and  sundry 
other  changes  by  a  later  artist,  and  made  to  do  duty  for, 
perhaps,  some  local  celebrity.  This  has  all  been  cleverly 
removed  and  the  original  remains  in  its  pristine  colours, 
but  not,  I  must  confess,  in  guise  or  lineament  familiar  to 
my  eyes,  nor  is  it  as  our  conductor  explained  to  me, 
the  portrait  best  liked  by  Americans.  Here  he  referred  to 
the  well  known  one  with  bald  forehead,  long  curly  hair, 
peaked  beard  and  broad  embroidered  collar — not  the 
Chandos  or  Droeschout — nor  do  I  know  to  whom  this  is 
attributed,  but  I  think  he  wished  to  compliment  me, 
thinking  I  was  an  American,  b}'  referring  to  our  better 
taste  in  art. 

Having  seen  and  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  treasures  of 
this  place,  and  our  little  "  Mercury  "  having  brought  us  a 
carriage,  we  proceeded  through  the  busier  part  of  the 
pretty  town  (the  Market-place,  being  full  of  jolly-looking, 
well-mounted  farmers,  graziers,  etc.,  for  it  was  monthly 
market-day),  and  crossing  in  our  way  a  bridge  of  nine 
arches  over  the  Avon,  to  visit  the  beautiful  parish  church 
where  lie  his  bones,  and  where,  as  Washington  Irving 
declares,  "  The  mind  refuses  to  dwell  on  anything  that  is 
not  connected  with  Shakespeare."  *  *  *  *  The 
whole  place  seems  but  his  mausoleum."     'Tis  a  very  beau- 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         267 

tiful  structure  standing  just  without  the  town  on  the 
banks  of  the  gently-flowing  Avon,  which  reflects  its  grace- 
ful "  heaven-directed  spire,"  fine  old  windows  and  dense 
avenue  of  overhanging  lime-trees  by  which  you  approach 
it.  The  building  is  of  great  antiquity.  Leland  says,  "  it 
is  supposed  it  was  renewed  in  buildinge  by  John  de  Strat- 
ford, Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  in  the  beginninge  of  the 
raine  of  K.  E.  3,"  and  doubtless  has  often  been  repaired 
and  restored  since  that  time.  So  let  us  enter,  and  passing 
up  an  interior  quite  in  keeping  with  the  beauty  of  the 
exterior,  and  adorned  with  some  fine  carving  and  grand 
old  windows,  proceed  up  the  church  to  where,  just  within 
the  chancel-rails,  upon  the  second  step  of  the  altar,  are 
placed  side  by  side  the  graves  of  Shakespeare,  his  wife, 
daughter,  and  other  members  of  the  family.  The  poet's 
is  covered  by  a  flat  stone  engraved  with  the  following 
verse,  said  to  have  been  written  by  himself  shortly  before 
his  decease  : 

u  Good  frencl  for  Iesvs  sake  forbeare, 
To  digg  the  dvst  encloaeed  heare ; 
Bleete  be  the  man  that  spares  thes  stones, 
And  cvrst  be  he  that  moves  my  bones.*1 

An  old  tradition  says  that  his  wife  and  daughter  both 
desired  to  be  laid  in  the  same  grave  with  him,  but  no  one 
dared  venture  to  incur  the  above  penalty.  And  in  later 
times  respect  for  his  wishes,  if  not  fear  of  the  anathema, 
has  doubtless  prevented  what  I  should  be  inclined  to  look 
upon  as  sacrilege.  On  the  north  wall,  just  above  the 
poet's  grave,  is  his  well-known  monument,  where  he  is  rep- 
resented as  writing  in  a  scroll,  lying  on  a  cushion  ;  it  is 
coloured  and  gilded  in  what  appeared  to  me  very 
doubtful  taste.     After  reading  the  various  inscriptions  on 


268        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

the  graves  of  his  wife,  daughter  and  son-in-law,  the  west- 
ering sun  glowing  through  one  of  the  richly-stained  glass 
windows  warned  us  how  time  was  flying,  and  as  we  had 
yet  another  visit  to  make,  forced  us  to  hurry  off. 

A  short  drive  by  a  winding  road  bordered  with  haw- 
thorn-hedges, occasional  tall  elms  and  green  fields  on  both 
sides,  soon  brought  us  to  the  hamlet  of  Shottery,  where, 
on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  road,  stands  the  cottage  of 
Anne  Hathaway,  Shakespeare's  wife.  Several  little  rosy- 
cheeked  country  children  of  both  sexes  were  standing  at 
the  wicket  offering  visitors  "  posies  "  gathered  in  the  pret- 
ty old-time  garden,  and  made  happy  by  a  few  pence. 
The  house  itself,  which  stands  facing  the  garden  and  end- 
on  to  the  road,  is  a  long,  low  timber-framed  building,  with 
a  thick  thatched  roof  that  has  been  cut  away  to  permit 
light  into  the  upper  chambers,  and  evidently  constructed 
at  different  times,  as  there  are  two  different  levels  in  roof 
and  floor ;  but  is  said  to  be  now  just  as  it  was  when 
Shakespeare  used  to  come  here  courting.  A  venerable- 
looking  dame  who  was  drawing  water  with  a  bucket  from 
the  ancient  well  in  front  of  the  house,  dropped  a  curtsy 
and  invited  us  to  enter,  which  we  did  by  a  couple  of  stone 
steps  leading  to  an  old  oak  door.  The  principal  living- 
room  is  of  moderate  size,  with  broad,  open  fire-place,  and 
seats  on  each  side,  the  blue  sky  being  visible  through  its 
capacious  chimney.  An  ancient  dresser  pretty  well  filled 
with  old  crockery,  a  spinning-stool  and  a  high-backed 
oaken  settle,  on  which  'tis  said  the  future  poet  used  to  sit 
with  his  sweetheart— doubtless  when  the  old  folks  were 
snugly  ensconced  in  the  "ingle-newk" — are  some  of  the 
objects  of  interest  in  this  room.     Ascending  from  it  by  a 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        269 


steep  and  narrow  staircase,  you  attain  the  room  in  which 
Anne  was  born,  with  ceiling  so  low  that  it  as  well  as  the 
surrounding  walls  are  so  covered  with  inscriptions,  names 
and  initials  that  you  would  find  it  difficult  to  write  your 
own  if  you  wished  to,  which  we  didn't.  Here  is  an  old 
carved  oak  bedstead  of  the  Elizabethan  period,  with  posts 
and  tester  of  the  same  material,  said  to  have  been  an  heir- 
loom of  the  family  from  the  sixteenth  century.  On  it  lies 
a  large  home-spun  linen  sheet  and  pillow-case,  each  orna- 
mented with  an  open-work  lace  seam  or  insertion  about 
an  inch  and  a  half  wide  down  their  centers.  Both  are 
marked  "  E.  H.,"  and  have  been  used  by  the  Hathaways  on 
special  occasions,  such  as  births,  deaths  and  marriages, 
for  centuries — a  common  custom  in  Warwickshire,  where 
many  families  show  with  pride  embroidered  bed-linen 
treasured  up  in  carved  oak  chests  similar  to  one  in  this 
same  room.  I  cannot  quite  account  for  it,  but  somehow 
this  place  seemed  fuller  of  interest  and  pleasant  memo- 
ries, to  both  M.  and  me,  than  did  the  bard's  own  birth- 
place. Perhaps  it  was  partly  due  to  a  lovely  autumn 
afternoon,  pleasant  recollections  of  our  own  courting  days, 
and  much  to  the  sympathy  we  felt  with  the  worthy  dame 
in  charge,  last  of  the  Hathaway  blood,  from  whose  pro- 
prietorship the  property  has  passed  away  forever.  She 
told  us  that  its  present  owner  permitted  her  to  occupy  it 
during  her  lifetime,  and  so,  after  wishing  her  a  long  and 
happy  one,  pledged  in  a  glass  of  clear,  cold  water  from 
Anne  Hathaway 's  well,  we  bid  her  adieu. 

Should  you  ask  me  how  I  felt  when  wandering  among 
the  different  scenes  so  full  of  interest  that  we  have  wit- 
nessed to-day,  I   must  confess  that  I   could   not  at   all 


270         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 


analyze  the  emotions  evoked  by  them,  and  must  leave  to 
your  own  imagination  to  conjure  up  how  you  yourself 
would  feel  amid  surroundings  so  fully  entwined  with  the 
glorious  literature  of  our  English  race. 

Returning  to  Stratford  again  by  another  charming 
route,  we  lunched  at  the  Shakespeare  Hotel,  whose  buxom 
hostess — I  wonder  why  English  hostesses  are  always 
buxom — took  M.,  and  not  me,  for  an  American.  Follow- 
ing her  directions  we  wandered  back  by  streets  everywhere 
full  of  some  Shakespearian  recollection,  to  the  railway 
station,  and  were  soon  on  our  way  to  Birmingham  and 
Shrewsbury,  getting  to  the  latter  place  at  8  p.  m.,  tired  and 
done  up.  Before  we  reached  this  it  had  begun  to  rain, 
and  I  assure  you  we  were  glad  of  the  shelter  of  our  cozy 
and  excellent  inn,  The  Raven,  where  Farquhar  wrote  his 
famous  comedy  "The  Recruiting  Officer." 

Next  morning  broke  gray  and  wet,  our  good  fortune 
had  forsaken  us,  but  as  we  had  no  special  charter  for 
"  Queen's  weather  "  always,  we  put  the  best  face  we  could 
on  it  by  hiring  a  vehicle  and  starting  off  to  see  the  town. 
It  is  of  great  antiquity,  and  like  all  border  towns,  stand- 
ing as  it  does  on  the  confines  of  England  and  Wales,  has 
"  a  strange,  eventful  history,"  but  into  which  I  do  not  pro- 
pose to  enter  very  fully,  merely  noting  that  it  has  often 
changed  masters  between  the  conflicting  British  and  Saxon 
races  in  the  earlier  days,  and  that  several  parliaments 
have  been  held  here  in  subsequent  times.  Perhaps  the 
most  noted  battle  fought  in  the  vicinity  was  when  Henry 
IV.  defeated  the  Percies  and  their  allies  in  1403,  and 
Falstaff  and  the  valiant  Hotspur  "  fought  a  long  hour  by 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        271 

Shrewsbury  clock,"  according  to  the  obese  and  mendacious 
knight's  account  of  the  affair. 

Shrewsbury  is  nearly  surrounded  by  the  river  Severn, 
and  must  have  been  a  place  of  great  strength  and  value  to 
the  combatants  in  former  times  from  that  very  circum- 
stance. Some  remains  of  its  ancient  walls  are  yet  to  be 
seen,  and  the  castle,  perched  upon  a  red  sandstone  rock — 
overlooking  the  Great  Western  railway  station  and  much 
of  the  surrounding  country — is  still  partly  habitable,  hav- 
ing fared  better  than  many  of  its  compeers  in  the  struggle 
between  the  people  and  the  crown,  being  taken  by  the 
Parliamentarians  in  1644.  Two  bridges,  called  respectively 
the  English  and  Welsh,  cross  the  river  Severn,  connecting 
the  ancient  with  the  more  modern  town  and  suburbs  and 
giving  access  to  the  Principality  and  the  Anglo-Saxon 
kingdom. 

It  formerly  possessed  several  monasteries  and  a  fine  old 
Benedictine  Abbey,  now  known  as  the  Church  of  Holy 
Cross.  We  found  the  doors  closed,  but  a  penny  to  an 
urchin  in  the  street  soon  brought  a  thrifty  dame  from 
somewhere  in  the  neighbourhood  with  the  key.  We  were 
much  struck  with  the  beauty  of  its  interior,  fine  glass  and 
ancient  monuments,  but  not  able  to  bestow  on  it  either  the 
time  or  attention  it  deserved.  The  old  market-house,  with 
the  upper  chambers  built  on  rows  of  massive  pillars  (in 
the  open  spaces  between  which  agricultural  produce  is 
sold),  is  well  worthy  of  a  visit,  from  the  quaintness  and 
old-time  look  of  it.  Its  principal  gable-end  is  adorned 
with  a  statue  and  inscription — of  I  forget  whom — and 
surmounted  by  a  clock;  whether  it  be  the  one  that  told  the 
hour  for  the  Falstaffian  duel,  neither  history  nor  I  record. 


272        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  TEE  OLD  WORLD. 

In  the  vicinity  of  the  town  is  a  column  to  the  memory 
of  Lieutenant-General  Lord  Hill,  of  Peninsular  and  Water- 
loo fame,  who  did  the  state  much  service,  and  was  a  native 
of  this  county.  A  similar  honour  is  paid  to  another  dis- 
tinguished Salopian — Robert,  Lord  Clive — who,  entering 
the  East  India  Company's  service  in  the  civil  department 
when  their  fortunes  were  at  a  very  low  ebb,  threw  down  the 
pen  for  the  sword  and  by  his  indomitable  will  and  courage 
in  the  attack  on,  capture  and  subsequent  defence  of  Arcot 
against  vastly  superior  numbers,  with  other  successes  cul- 
minating in  the  splendid  victory  of  Plassey,  laid  the 
foundation  of  our  magnificent  empire  of  the  East.  In 
this  last  fight  with  a  force  of  three  thousand  men,  only 
eight  hundred  of  whom  were  British,  he  crossed  the  river 
and  attacked  the  army  of  Suraja  Dowlah,  consisting, of 
fifty  thousand  infantry,  eighteen  thousand  cavalry  and 
fifty  French  allied  artillerymen,  gaining  a  most  complete 
victory,  and  receiving  the  title  of  Baron  Plassey  therefor. 

I  feel  I  have  digressed  somewhat,  and  so  must  hurry  on 
through  the  rain  to  perhaps  the  most  picturesque  town  in 
England,  the  ancient  episcopal  city  of  Chester.  It  stands 
on  the  right  bank  of  the  river,  which  is  crossed  by  a 
superb  stone  arch  of  two  hundred  feet  span,  being  some 
twenty  miles  from  its  estuary,  where  Mary  drave  the  cattle 
home,  etc.  As  an  important  Roman  station  on  the  great 
military  road  called  Watling  street,  leading  into  North 
Wales,  it  was  named  u  Devana  Castra,"  and  the  two  main 
streets  crossing  each  other  at  right  angles,  were  by  the 
Romans  cut  out  of  the  rocky  sandstone  height  on  which  the 
city  stands,  several  feet  below  the  level  of  the  houses.  The 
plan  of  these  streets  is  most  curious,  and  I  think  unique, 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        273 

not  only  in  England,  but  in  Europe.  "  The  front  parts  of 
their  second  stories,  as  far  back  as  sixteen  feet,  form  a  con- 
tinuous paved  promenade  or  covered  gallery  " — very  pleas- 
ant to  walk  in — "  open  in  front,  where  there  are  pillars  and 
steps  up  from  the  street  below,  with  private  houses  above, 
inferior  shops  and  warehouses  beneath  and  the  chief  shops 
of  the  town  within."  The  dwelling  houses  occupying  the 
stories  above  these  "  Rows,"  as  in  local  parlance  they  are 
called,  have  their  fronts  on  a  line  with  those  of  the  lower 
story,  and  in  some  instances  overhanging  the  street  below. 
They  are  half-timbered  structures,  with  curiously  carved 
ornamental  gables,  some  of  them  being  very  elaborate, 
dating  from  the  sixteenth  century.  One  house  in  par- 
ticular is  pointed  out  to  you,  called  "  God's  Providence 
House."  It  is  very  finely  carved  and  bears  across  its 
front  the  inscription,  "  God's  Providence  is  Mine  In- 
heritance," and  tradition  affirms  it  was  the  only  house 
that  escaped  the  plague  during  the  terrible  visitation  of 
1665.  The  rain  having  ceased,  we  enjoyed  very  much 
the  novelty  and  strangeness  of  walking  in  these  covered 
ways,  and  purchasing  some  very  excellent  photographs  of 
them  to  aid  you  in  understanding  what  I  fear  I  have  but 
imperfectly  described  in  words.  At  the  end  of  one  of 
them,  before  descending  the  steps  into  the  lower  street,  we 
passed  through  the  campanile  of  a  fine  old  church,  but  I 
have  forgotten  to  whom  it  was  dedicated.  The  city  is 
nearly  enclosed  in  an  oblong  quadrangle  of  ancient  walls 
in  excellent  preservation ;  they  are  of  about  two  miles  in 
extent,  with  four  gates,  some  eight  feet  in  thickness,  and 
their  summit  forming  a  very  pleasant  promenade — secured 
now  by  parapets,  where  M.  and  I  walked  abreast  at  ease 

18 


274        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

and  enjoyed  the  lookout  over  the  excellent  race-course  and 
much  of  the  surrounding  country.  I  also  ascended  by 
steps  from  the  street  to  another  part  of  the  walls  near  the 
water  gate,  obtaining  a  comprehensive  view  of  much  of  the 
ancient  town.  To  my  right  was  a  tower  on  the  walls 
called  King  Charles  I.'s  Tower,  with  a  moat  full  of 
water  on  one  side,  and  said  by  our  Jehu  to  have  been  so 
named  because  that  monarch  witnessed  the  defeat  of  his 
forces  from  it  by  the  Parliamentary  army  during  the  long 
and  stubborn  defence  of  the  city  ere  it  finally  succumbed 
to  the  latter,,  but  I  doubt  much  if  history  will  bear  out 
this  story. 

Our  next  visit  was  to  the  far-famed  cathedral,  formerly 
the  Abbey  of  St.  Werburgh — a  Saxon  Saint — and  for  many 
centuries  one  of  the  richest  in  the  realm,  u  King  Alfred's 
daughter  having  brought  her  remains  to  Chester  and 
founded  a  monastic  house  in  her  name."  No  doubt  the 
fame  of  its  great  wealth  caused  the  frequent  attacks  from 
which  this  place  suffered  at  the  hands  of  Danes  and  North- 
men, and  notwithstanding  its  great  strength  it  was  taken 
by  the  former  in  894.  Ethelfrida  retook  it  in  904,  and 
rebuilt  the  walls.  For  some  centuries  after  the  Norman 
conquest,  the  Earls  of  Chester — a  title  still  borne  by  the 
Prince  of  Wales — kept  their  own  courts  and  parliaments 
here,  and  at  the  present  day  the  city  is  a  county  in  itself, 
and  returns  two  members  to  Parliament.  To  revert  to  the 
cathedral :  It  is  an  irregular  but  massive-looking  struct- 
ure, unfortunately  built  of  sandstone  and  crumbling  to 
decay  despite  frequent  restorations  in  early  and  later  days. 
The  architecture  is  very  varied  from  the  above  cause,  em- 
bracing Saxon,  Norman,  Gothic  and  Decorated,  but  the 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        275 


effect  of  the  whole,  thanks  to  the  genius  and  skill  of  the 
last  restorer,  Sir  Gilbert  Scott,  is  very  fine.  Its  interior 
struck  us  as  being  more  solemn  and  perhaps  more  sombre 
than  that  of  any  other  church  we  saw  ;  it  may  be  this 
effect  was  produced  by  the  cloudiness  of  the  day,  as  well 
as*by  the  many  tattered  banners  hanging  from  its  walls. 
I  do  not  remember  being  struck. by  the  beauty  of  its  win- 
dows; indeed,  our  time  was  far  too  short  for  a  satisfactory 
visit. 

Two  other  objects  of  interest  I  feel  that  I  must  men- 
tion, both  of  which  we  visited:  the  ancient  church  of  Saint 
John,  built,  like  the  cathedral,  of  sandstone,  and  partly  in 
ruins,  said  to  have  been  founded  by  Ethelred  in  698,  and 
the  former  palace  of  the  Stanleys,  a  timbered  building  of 
great  antiquity,  but  to  neither  of  which  could  we  do  jus- 
tice, and  our  great  regret  was  we  had  not  a  week  to  spare 
for  this  most  interesting  city,  which  our  American  kins- 
men usually  make  their  first  sight-seeing  visit  to,  unless 
bound  straight  for  London,  and  I  think  they  are  wise. 

Returning  again  to  the  handsome  and  important  rail- 
way station,  we  took  train  for  Liverpool,  passing  across  the 
county  Palatine  of  Cheshire,  and  over  the  river  Mersey, 
by  a  fine  bridge,  at  I  think  Runcorn,  whence  a  few  miles 
through  an  uninteresting  country  brought  us  pretty  well 
fatigued  with  the  day's  exertions,  to  our  old  quarters  at 
the  North-Western  Hotel. 

While  sitting  in  the  parlor  of  the  hotel  this  same 
evening  engaged  in  letter  writing,  a  voice  at  my  elbow 
enquired  if  my  name  was  L.  Replying  that  it  was,  and 
entering  into  conversation  with  my  interlocutor,  we  were 
very  pleased  to  find  that  he  was  one  of  "our  American 


276         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 


cousins"  who  had  come  to  England  with  his  mother 
chiefly  to  visit  the  last  resting-place  of  his  father,  who  had 
died  in  Liverpool  some  quarter  of  a  century  ago  a  few 
days  after  landing  from  America,  having  been  recom- 
mended by  his  physicians  to  try  what  his  native  air 
would  do  for  him.  He  recognized  me  from  a  photograph 
he  had  seen  somewhere  among  our  friends,  and  we  were 
very  pleased  to  meet  him  and  his  mother,  and  enjoyed 
their  society  much  during  the  few  days  we  remained 
together,  they,  like  us,  being  homeward  bound,  and  sail- 
ing for  New  York  the  same  day  we  left  for  Canada. 

Why  I  mention  this  incident  is  from  its  strangeness 
that  two  parties  of  one  family,  each  ignorant  of  the  other's 
plans  or  movements,  should,  after  long  years  of  absence 
from  their  native  land  and  in  widely  separated  parts  of 
the  earth,  meet  together  in  a  Liverpool  hotel !  Truly,  as 
some  say,  steam,  electricity  and  the  facilities  of  travel 
have  made  the  world  but  a  small  place  in  these  days. 
An  immediate  consequence  of  above  strange  rencounter 
was  the  finding  of  other  kinsfolk  whose  kind  and  affec- 
tionate manners  endeared  them  to  us  at  once,  and  fully 
justified  our  adoption  of  the  titles  of  uncle  and  aunt,  with 
which  their  love  invested  us.  Dr.  M.  and  his  charming 
wife  visited  us  immediately  on  being  made  acquainted 
with  our  presence  in  Liverpool,  and,  as  he  remarked,  it 
was  truly  "  an  unlooked-for  gathering  of  the  clans."  It 
resulted  in  our  running  down  by  rail  to  visit  them  at 
their  home  in  Ormskirk,  an  ancient  town  situated  on  the 
old  road  between  Liverpool  and  Preston,  some  dozen 
miles  from  the  former  place,  which  was  once  known,  as 
Ormskirkians  tell  you  with  perhaps  pardonable  pride,  as 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        277 

Liverpool  near  Ormskirk  !  Our  journey  lay  through  a 
rather  flat  but  yet  a  pretty  country,  and  the  glorious  fresh- 
ness of  a  late  autumn  day,  with  the  geniality  of  our 
friends  and  their  charming  family,  made  our  visit  in  every 
way  a  memorable  one.  This  is  one  of  those  quiet,  pleasant 
towns  which  you  occasionally  find  in  England,  robbed  of 
bustle  and  trade  by  its  vigorous  neighbour,  and  yet  per- 
vaded by  such  a  general  air  of  repose  that  the  thought  is 
borne  in  upon  your  mind  that  it  could  be  a  peaceful 
haven  in  your  declining  days,  though  it  has  known  much 
of  turmoil  and  warfare,  especially  during  the  troublous 
Parliamentary  times.  In  the  principal  street  is  a  statue 
of  the  late  Earl  Beaconsfield,  said  to  be  an  excellent  like- 
ness of  that  distinguished  statesman,  but  why  clad  in  a 
Koman  toga  I  know  not,  and  I  fancy  that,  like  him,  the 
townsfolk  are  very  conservative  and  jealous  of  England's 
honour  and  glory. 

An  object  of  great  interest  to  us  was  the  ancient  church 
whose  history  seems  shrouded  in  much  uncertainty  as  to 
date  of  foundation  or  erection.  Tradition  attributes  church 
and  town  to  Orm,  a  Saxon  or  Danish  founder,  and  it  is 
certain  that  they  both  existed  in  the  reign  of  Richard 
Cceur  de  Lion.  The  present  edifice  is  of  various  dates  and 
styles,  but  an  undoubted  Saxon  window  exists  in  the 
chancel  wall.  Divided  from  the  church  by  a  screen  is  the 
Derby  Chapel,  the  burial  place  of  the  house  of  Stanley  for 
three  centuries  past,  and  in  the  vault  beneath  lies  the 
coffin  containing  the  remains  of  the  celebrated  Countess 
Charlotte  de  La  Tremouille,  whose  successful  defence  of 
Lathom  House  against  the  Parliamentary  forces  during 
her  husband's  enforced  absence,  has  made  her  name  illus- 


278        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

trious.  In  the  same  place  are  deposited  the  two  coffins 
containing  the  head  and  body  of  the  "great  earl,"  her 
husband,  who  was,  during  the  siege  of  Lathom  House,  in 
his  Kingdom  of  Man  by  orders  of  King  Charles  I.,  and 
was  subsequently  taken  and  executed  at  Bolton  for  his 
adherence  to  the  royal  cause  and  the  part  he  took  in  the 
battle  of  Worcester.  The  edifice  itself,  which  stands  on  a 
hill  in  a  large  "  God's  Acre,"  literally  paved  with  grave- 
stones, is  peculiar  from  the  fact  of  its  having  at  the  same  end 
two  adjoining  towers,  one  large  and  square  and  the  other 
surmounted  by  a  spire,  the  effect  of  which  is  very  curious. 
A  local  tradition  says  two  maiden  sisters  erected  the 
building,  and  being  of  different  opinions  as  to  whether  it 
should  have  tower  or  steeple  and  spire,  settled  the  matter 
each  to  her  own  liking  by  giving  it  both.  Lathom  House, 
so  celebrated  for  its  siege  and  defence  by  the  gallant 
Countess,  was  subsequently  destroyed  by  order  of  Parlia- 
ment, and  we  did  not  feel  interest  enough  in  the  present 
building  erected  on  its  site  to  visit  it,  but  returned  to 
Liverpool  after  a  thoroughly  enjoyable  "  outing." 

We  spent  a  very  pleasant  day  with  the  Misses  S., 
daughters  of  our  former  bishop,  at  their  fine  establish- 
ment in  New  Brighton,  all  of  us  mutually  delighted  with 
reminiscences  of  old  Honolulu  days.  What  wondrous 
changes  time  has  effected  in  this  place,  like  what  is  now 
the  city  of  San  Francisco  when  first  I  knew  it.  This  was 
at  that  time  a  waste  of  sand  and  scrub  ;  now  man's  energy 
and  enterprise  within  forty  short  years  have  converted 
both  into  flourishing  and  liandsome  cities,  but  of  course 
the  palm  for  wealth  and  importance  belongs  to  the  latter. 

Our  short  stay  in  Liverpool  was  pretty  fully  occupied 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         279 

in  arranging  matters  for  our  homeward  trip,  bidding  adieu 
to  friends,  and  the  multifarious  things  that  crowd  upon  the 
traveller  on  the  eve  of  his  journey. 

However  unwilling  we  may  be  to  quit  old  England's 
shores,  the  day  will  come  at  last  when  we  must  do  so,  and 
it  broke  upon  us  fair  with  strong  westerly  wTinds,  but 
changed  after  noon  to  squally  weather,  with  heavy  showers 
of  rain. 

At  4  p.  m.,  September  24th,  we  embarked  by  tug  from 
the  landing-stage  to  join  our  ship,  the  "Polynesian,"  Capt. 
Ritchie — of  the  Allan  Line — appropriate  name  for  us,  lying 
off  the  Princes  pier  in  the  river  and  bound  for  Quebec. 
Notwithstanding  the  inclemency  of  the  weather  many 
kind  friends  came  to  bid  us  adieu,  among  them  C.  R., 
whose  good  offices,  with  pleasant  memories  of  Honolulu 
in  former  years,  will  always  endear  him  to  us.  Our  newly 
found  "  American  cousins,"  too,  were  there,  and  like  us, 
also  homeward  bound,  so  that  the  pilgrims  who  on  their 
arrival  in  their  native  land  had  none  of  their  own  kith 
and  kin  to  welcome  them,  on  their  departure  from  it  were 
cheered  by  the  presence  of  many.  We  lay  waiting  for  the 
tide  to  serve,  until  a  glorious-  full  moon  arose,  and,  as  Jack 
says,  "  scoffed  up  all  the  dirt  !  "  when  the  evening  became 
fair  and  we  were  soon  under  weigh,  crossing  the  bar  at 
about  7  p.  M.  It  was  too  dark  for  us  to  see  our  friends'  (the 
Misses  S.)  promised  signal  from  New  Brighton,  but  the 
long  line  of  lights  on  either  shore  and  twinkling  from 
the  masts  and  stays  of  ships  in  the  river,  with  the  moon 
making  her  silver  pathway  on  the  broad  Mersey,  was  very 
fair  to  look  upon.  Of  course  some  sadness  weighed  upon 
our  spirits,  even  though  we  were  bound  to  our  dear  ones 


280         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

in  the  sunny  isles,  for  we  were  leaving  much-loved  ones 
behind  us  and,  too,  the  dear  land  of  our  birth.  We  lin- 
gered long  by  the  taffrail  till  the  cool  breath  of  the  ocean 
and  increased  motion  of  the  ship  warned  M.  to  go  below, 
and  we  were  fain  to  say,  "  My  native  land,  good-night ! " 
and  to  add  from  the  heart,  without  quoting  farther,  u  God 
bless  you." 

Next  morning  broke  fair  with  a  strong  nor-west  wind, 
and  we  were  ploughing  away  through  the  North  Channel. 
On  our  right  the  shores  of  Old  Scotland  were  plainly  visi- 
ble, and  to  our  left  the  Emerald  Isle.  About  half-past  10 
"  Ailsa  Craig,"  rising  abruptly  in  sheer  precipice  from 
the  sea  over  1,000  feet,  was  on  our  starboard  beam,  and 
three  hours  later  the  basaltic  columns  of  the  "  Giant's 
Causeway"  on  our  port  beam,  clear  weather  and  bright 
sun  giving  us  a  good  view  of  each. 

At  2:30  p.  m.  we  entered  Lough  Foyle,  passing  the 
pretty  village  of  Green  Castle,  its  disused  fortifications 
overgrown  with  ivy,  and  came  to  anchor  off  Moville  at 
3  o'clock,  to  await  the  mails  from  Londonderry.  The 
stillness  of  the  ship  in  these  quiet  waters  and  beauty  of 
the  surrounding  scenery  brought  our  fellow  voyagers  on 
deck,  some  of  whom  had  friends  come  off  to  see  them, 
and  we  all  took  advantage  of  our  stay  to  send  last  adieus 
and  messages  to  our  loved  ones. 

The  city  of  Londonderry,  so  celebrated  for  its  famous 
siege  and  defence,  is  situated  some  eighteen  miles  above 
where  the  river  Foyle  empties  into  this  beautiful  sheet  of 
water.  We  could  discern  with  our  glasses  its  towers  and 
steeples,  and  would  fain  have  visited  so  interesting  a 
spot,  but  the  speedy  arrival  of  a  steamer  with  the  latest 


OUR  PILGRIMAaE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        281 

mails  from  the  United  Kingdom,  for  which  we  were  wait- 
ing, precluded  the  possibility  of  that,  so  we  were  fain  to 
be  content  with  the  fair  view  surrounding  us,  when  our 
anchor  was  tripped  and  off  we  were  again.  We  were  not 
much  more  than  a  good-sized  family  party,  numbering 
some  thirty-five  or  forty  in  the  saloon,  but  we  were  a 
very  genial  and  pleasant  one,  and  I  shall  ever  look  back 
with  pleasure  to  the  days  spent  on  board  the  good  ship 
"Polynesian."  Our  captain  was  a  thorough  seaman  and 
a  kind  and  courteous  gentleman,  as  all  masters  of  these 
great  ocean  steamships  should  be,  these  virtues  being  by 
no  means  incompatible  with  thorough  seamanship. 

Our  passage  across  these  Northern  seas  included 
almost  every  variety  of  weather,  but  with  nearly  invari- 
able head  winds,  and  sometimes  a  sea  so  heavy  as  to 
necessitate  the  "  governor  "  being  put  on  to  prevent  racing 
of  the  screw.  We  saw  a  good  many  vessels  under  both 
steam  and  sail,  otherwise  there  was  but  little  to  relieve 
the  monotony  of  sea-life,  for  frequent  hazy  and  foggy 
weather,  with  the  decline  of  temperature,  the  mercury 
being  sometimes  down  to  40°,  precluded  the  usual  ship- 
board amusement  on  deck. 

On  Friday  the  2d  of  October,  a  fair,  cool  day  with 
smooth  sea,  we  sighted  Belle  Isle,  and  soon  were  in  the 
straits,  with  above  land  on  our  starboard  quarter,  the 
desolate  shores  of  Labrador  on  the  bow,  and  along  our 
port  beam  the  island  of  Newfoundland.  All  honour  to 
the  early  navigators  who  dared  these  wild,  tempestuous 
and  unknown  seas,  whether  in  search  of  Noreast  or 
Norwest  passages,  or  as  mere  adventurers ;  they  were 
truly  gallant  spirits,  the  Cabots,  Willoughbys,  Hawkins, 


282        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

Frobishers,  Gilberts  and  many  more  whose  names  stand 
high  in  the  estimation  of  all  sailors.  They  had  rot,  like 
us,  patent  logs,  patent  sounding-machines — not  necessi- 
tating the  stopping  of  the  ship — perfect  nautical  instru- 
ments, and  elaborate  charts  ;  as  to  the  latter,  of  course 
they  had  none  at  all,  for  they  went  into  these  wild,  foggy 
and  utterly  unknown  regions  simply  trusting  in  their 
own  good  seamanship  and  a  bright  lookout ;  therefore,  I 
say  again,  all  honour  to  them. 

Next  day  was  thick  and  foggy,  so  we  did  not  go  at  our 
highest  speed,  the  doleful-sounding  steam  whistle,  patent 
log  and  sounding-machine  being  in  constant  requisition. 
Oh  !  what  a  life  of  anxiety  must  the  captain  of  one  of  these 
great  ocean  steamers  lead,  and  I  greatly  fear  they  are  not 
recompensed  accordingly.  During  the  night  we  passed 
the  Island  of  Anticosta,  Sunday  morning  coming  clear 
and  fair  with  light  westerly  winds  and  the  land  of  Gaspe 
lying  along  our  port  beam  some  seven  or  eight  miles  off. 
Soon  again  the  envious  fog  shut  down  and  hid  all  from  our 
view  till  about  noon,  when  the  glorious  sun  asserted  his 
supremacy  and  we  found  ourselves  steaming  along  the  right 
bank  of  the  noble  St.  Lawrence,  outlet  of  five  great  lakes. 
The  shore  was  dotted  all  along  with  French-Canadian 
villages  and  tiny  churches,  surmounted  with  the  same 
funny-looking  extinguisher-shaped  roofs  that  we  had  been 
familiar  with  in  France,  the  bright  rays  of  the  midday 
sun  shining  on  these  and  the  broad  river,  making  a  fair 
landscape  indeed.  During, the  afternoon  the  weather  again 
assumed  a  threatening  look,  so  after  consultation  with 
our  captain,  fearing  fog  might  come  on,  and  as  we  were 
bound  to  be  in  San  Francisco  on  the  14th,  we  decided 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         283 

to  land  at  Ramouski  with  the  mails.  At  6  p.  m.  we  were 
at  this  place,  when  a  small  steamer  came  off  for  the  mail- 
bags  to  be  transmitted  by  rail  to  Point  Levi,  some  hun- 
dred miles  above  and  on  the  opposite  shore  from  the  city 
of  Quebec. 

Our  captain,  with  his  usual  thoughtful  courtesy,  had 
ordered  dinner  for  us  an  hour  before  the  usual  time,  so 
that  when  the  steamer  came  alongside  we  were  ready  to 
start  at  once.  By  this  time  the  usual  hour  for  the  saloon 
passengers'  dinner  had  arrived,  but  notwithstanding  the 
continual  booming  of  the  gong  and  imperative  calls  of  the 
inner  man,  not  one  of  our  ''family  party  "  would  leave  the 
deck  until  they  had  seen  us  fairly  off,  amid  the  parting 
cheers  of  the  men  and  waving  of  handkerchiefs  from  the 
gentler  sex,  for  which  kindly  demonstration  I  trust  we  were 
fully  grateful.  Stepping  on  to  the  crowded  and  untidy 
decks  of  the  little  steamer,  with  her  queer-looking  machin- 
ery, what  a  gabble  of  Canadian-French  assailed  our  ears, 
and  how  unlike  in  sound  to  that  with  which  we  had  been 
familiar  in  Paris  some  two  months  ago  !  Surely,  said  I,  this 
must  be  the  "  French  of  Stratforde  atte  Bowe,"  but  further 
acquaintance  inclined  me  to  attribute  to  it  a  sort  of  Teu- 
tonic character  and  sound  which  the  slow,  easy  manners 
and  apparent  phlegmatic  temperament  of  the  speakers, 
almost  devoid  of  civility,  served  to  illustrate ;  not,  under- 
stand me,  that  I  desire  to  attribute  the  latter  fault  to  the 
Teutonic  race. 

It  was  nearly  dark  when  we  landed  on  a  miserable 
wharf,  crowded  with  every  possible  obstruction  in  the  way 
of  timber,  coils  of  rope  and  general  litter  of  a  badly  kept 
riverside  railway,  but  after  nearly  tumbling  into  several 


284         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD   WORLD. 

holes  and  losing  our  way  in  the  confusion  we  were  glad  to 
gain  the  shelter  of  the  cars,  as  it  was  just  beginning  to  rain 
heavily.  And  this  is  an  express  train  carrying  Her  Majesty's 
mails,  and  we  are  in  a  British  colony  with  no  language 
spoken  but  a  French  patois !  Such  were  my  thoughts,  given 
vent  to,  I  fear,  in  no  very  amiable  language.  M's  reply  was 
that  if  "  I  expected  to  understand  all  the  dialects  spoken 
in  the  Queen's  dominions  my  attainments  as  a  linguist 
would  be  considerable."  I  admitted  this,  but  could  not 
be  reconciled  to  our  mode  or  means  of  transit.  Just  fancy 
a  bare,  dirty  car,  a  good  deal  like  an  old  wild-beast  cara- 
van, with  a  few  hard  wooden  seats,  lighted  by  a  solitary, 
dirty,  smoking  oil-lamp,  officials  all  doing  the  same,  and 
warmed  by  an  open  stove  in  one  corner  breathing  out 
sulphureous  fumes  instead  of  heat,  from  bad  coal,  and 
you  have  our  first  impressions  of  a  Canadian  railway  car- 
riage, for  which  we  had  paid  to  the  captain  of  the  river 
steamer  first-class  fare. 

After  a  while,  the  mails  being  got  on  board,  we  left  this 
squalid-looking  place,  but  only  to  pass  through  many 
more  looking  similarly  unfinished,  water-soaked  and  bear- 
ing a  strong  family  likeness  to  it.  I  am  bound  to  say  that 
our  speed  was  good,  but  oh  !  the  jolting  and  jumping  of 
the  train  was  only  equalled  by  that  of  my  heart  into  my 
mouth,  as  we  plunged  onwards  during  the  rain,  storm, 
lightning,  thunder  and  darkness  of  the  night. 

Shortly  before  midnight  we  arrived  at  Point  Levi,  oppo- 
site to  the  city  of  Quebec,  where  the  mails  are  trans- 
shipped, and  finding  that  the  ferry-boat  was  in  waiting 
we  decided  to  cross  at  once,  as  fortunately  for  us  it  had 
ceased  raining  for  a  while.     We  were  soon  on  board  the 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  TEE  OLD  WORLD.        285 

huge  machine,  doubtless  well  calculated  to  stem  the 
current  of  the  mighty  river  and  for  freighting  purposes, 
but  what  a  contrast  to  the  fine  boats  crossing  from  San 
Francisco  to  Oakland  ;  a  few  bare  seats,  no  upholstery  or 
ornamentation  of  any  kind,  and  both  freight  and  passen- 
gers carried  on  one  deck. 

We  were  soon  across,  and  by  this  time  it  was  blowing 
and  raining  harder  than  ever ;  the  captain,  who  thank 
goodness  spoke  English,  kindly  sent  a  man  on  shore  to 
seek  for  a  conveyance,  but  after  a  while  he  returned  to  say 
that  none  could  be  had.  Here  was  a  pretty  predicament 
for  the  pilgrims,  so  that  we  were  forced  to  accept,  with 
thanks,  the  captain's  kind  offer  of  a  couple  of  his  hands 
to  carry  our  valise  and  pilot  us  to  the  St.  Louis  Hotel.  I 
wonder  if  we  shall  ever  forget  the  adventures  of  that  night, 
the  wading  through  the  mud,  overflowing  kennels  and 
darkness  of  the  lower  town,  or  the  incessant  climb,  climb, 
climb,  necessary  to  attain  the  upper  town,  and  all  the 
time  raining  "  cats  and  dogs."  At  one  point  we  were  con- 
fronted by  a  long  flight  of  steep  wooden  steps,  dimly  dis- 
cernible by  a  flickering  lamp,  which  our  guides  called  a 
street  and  a  short  cut  to  our  destination,  but  on  M's 
declaring  the  ascent  to  be  impracticable  and  impossible  in 
her  drenched  and  tired  condition,  on  we  tramped  again  on 
our  apparently  endless  march. 

However,  all  things,  good  or  evil,  must  have  an  end  and 
so  our  arduous  task  did  in  time,  when  a  thundering 
knock  at  the  door  of  the  St.  Louis  Hotel  was  answered  by 
a  man  in  his  shirt-sleeves  and  disclosed  to  our  delighted 
eyes  a  large  hall  warmed  by  a  stove  and  apparently 
unlimited  rows  of  boots  and  shoes,  so  numerous  that  M. 


286        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

thought  we  had  made  a  mistake  and  got  into  a  shoe-shop. 
How  thankful  we  were  for  this  haven  of  refuge  and  how 
quickly  we  got  rid  of  our  drenched  outward  garments  I 
need  hardly  tell  you,  but  what  was  our  horror  to  find  on 
asking  for  refreshments,  so  necessary  after  the  benefit  we 
had,  to  be  told  that  everybody  was  gone  to  bed,  bar  and 
larder  locked  up  and  nothing  to  be  got  until  the  morning. 
Here  was  a  pretty  pilikia,  so  as  there  was  nothing  better  to 
be  done  we  determined  to  follow  the  example  of  the  other 
inmates  of  the  house  and  go  to  bed  also,  solacing  our- 
selves with  the  idea  that  fatigue  would  make  us  sleep  and 
thankful  that  we  had  a  little  brandy  in  a  flask  that  we 
had  brought  with  us  from  Liverpool.  Before,  however,  we 
had  got  to  bed  came  a  rap  at  the  door  and  our  friend 
"  Boots "  had  somehow  or  other  managed  to  find  some 
bread  and  cheese,  with  a  jug  of  milk,  off  which  we  made 
a  regular  Lucullan  supper,  and  so  to  rest.  Hardly  had  we 
got  to  sleep  when  we  were  disturbed  by  the  sonorous 
striking  of  apparently  a  mad  church  clock,  in  some  adja- 
cent room  or  passage  ;  I  say  mad,  for  as  we  were  only  in 
the  "  wee  sma  hours  ayont  the  twal,"  this  thing  appeared 
to  boom  on  incessantly  and  did  so  at  intervals  throughout 
the  night,  we  being  too  tired  to  count  the  strokes. 

On  enquiring  of  the  bell-boy  in  the  morning  when  he 
came  to  fill  our  bath,  where  the  confounded  clock  was,  he 
assured  us  that  there  was  nothing  of.  the  kind  anywhere 
near.  We  hardly  knew  what  to  make  of  this  statement ; 
we  could  not  be  mistaken,  and  scarcely  had  he  left  the  room 
when  boom  !  boom  !  boom  !  went  the  thing  again,  and  we 
discovered  that  the  disturber  of  our  slumbers  was  our  own 
small  travelling-clock,  whose  time  had  not  been  altered 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         287 


since  leaving  Liverpool,  and  which  I  had  placed,  while 
unpacking  our  valise,  on  the  top  of  a  table  containing  an 
empty  drawer,  hence  the  reverberation  and  magnitude  of 
sound  which  we  had  not  noticed  during  the  voyage,  as  it 
was  always  hanging  in  a  leathern  case  upon  a  hook  in  our 
cabin.  We  looked  at  each  other  and  burst  into  a  laugh 
at  our  mutual  stupidity!  And  then  the  beams  of  the 
bright  morning  sun  coming  streaming  through  our  win- 
dow, sent  us  down  to  breakfast  in  a  good  humour  and 
none  the  worse  for  the  fatigue,  wetting  and  incidents  of 
the  previous  night. 

This  important  function  ended,  and  our  ticket  secured 
by  the  Grand  Trunk  Railway  for  Chicago,  we  got  a  car- 
riage and  started  off  to  see  as  much  of  the  celebrated  city 
and  its  environs  as  time  would  permit.  It  was  a  glorious 
morning,  bright  and  clear,  with  a  fresh  breeze  blowing 
and  cold  enough  to  make  the  buffalo -robes  with  which 
our  carriage  was  supplied  feel  very  comfortable  ;  and 
while  we  are  bowling  along  in  it  I  will  tell  you  something 
of  this  celebrated  town.  It  is  situated  on  the  left  bank  of 
St.  Lawrence  river,  on  a  promontory  formed  by  its  junc- 
tion with  the  St.  Charles,  ending  in  the  point  called  Cape 
Diamond,  which  is  surmounted  by  an  impregnable-look- 
ing citadel,  the  land  falling  in  almost  inaccessible  rocky 
precipice  down  three  hundred  and  forty  feet  to  the  river. 
The  old  French  town  which  lies  along  the  river  banks 
and  around  toward  the  St.  Charles,  apparently  nestling 
under  protection  of  the  fort-crowned  rock,  with  its  nar- 
row, tortuous,  and  in  some  places  steep  streets  and  ancient- 
looking  houses,  does  not  seem  very  imposing,  gazing 
down   upon  it  as  we  did  from  above,   though  St.  Peter 


288         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

street  and  some  others  contain  many  good  buildings  used 
as  banks,  insurance  and  other  offices. 

The  ascent  to  the  upper  portion  of  the  city  I  told  you 
something  of  last  night,  and  I  do  not  care  to  recapitulate, 
but  when  seen  as  we  saw  it  to-day  the  view  from  thence, 
especially  from  the  Durham  and  DufTerin  Terrace,  is 
truly  superb.  This  splendid  promenade,  which  is  partly 
scarped  from  the  side  of  the  cliff  and  partly  built  of 
timber,  in  places  where  it  juts  out  and  overhangs  the  town 
below,  almost  enabling  you  to  look  down  the  chimneys 
of  the  houses,  is  1,400  feet  in  length,  of  a  noble  breadth, 
and  200  feet  above  the  river,  protected  by  a  railing  on 
the  outside  and  furnished  with  frequent  seats,  roofed  over 
for  convenience  of  promenaders ;  at  its  upper  end  is  a 
long  flight  of  steep  steps  communicating  with  the  citadel 
above,  where  on  a  platform  before  a  postern-gate  was  a 
volunteer  sentry  pacing  up  and  down,  the  Imperial  troops 
having  been  withdrawn  in  1870.  The  other  extremity 
has  a  hydraulic  lift,  intended  to  save  visitors  the  climb 
from  the  lower  town,  but  our  experience  of  a  similar  con- 
trivance at  the  Whirlpool  Rapids  on  the  Niagara  River 
did  not  induce  us  to  try  it.  When  illumined  as  it  is  at 
night  with  the  electric  light  the  effect  is  superb,  and  the 
prospect  from  it  by  day  one  of  the  finest  in  the  world ; 
above,  below  and  at  your  feet  is  the  noble  river  rolling 
majestically  to  the  sea,  and  liberally  sprinkled  with  every 
description  of  craft.  Below,  the  view  is  bounded,  if  I 
may  use  the  term,  for  it  is  almost  illimitable,  by  the  Isle 
of  Orleans,  here  dividing  the  noble  stream  and  containing 
many  villa  residences ;  above,  by  a  point  of  land  jutting  - 
out  and  forming  one  side  of  what  is  known  as  Wolfe's 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         289 

Cove.  On  the  opposite  bank  is  Point  Levi,  with  the 
wharves  and  warehouses  of  the  ocean  steamers,  and  the 
railway  station  and  depot  of  the  Grand  Trunk  Railway 
of  Canada.  Beyond,  and  at  the  back  of  this,  far  as  the 
eye  can  reach,  is  a  grand  champaign  country,  stretching 
into  the  far  distance,  plentifully  dotted  with  villages  and 
farms  ;  go  and  see  it  and  then  you  can  understand  our 
delight  and  realize  what  I  cannot  find  words  to  tell  you. 
Immediately  above  the  terrace,  on  a  broad,  handsome 
street  parallel  with  it,  is  the  Governor's  Garden,  looking 
rather  wintry  now,  but  containing  a  fine  monumental 
obelisk  to  the  memories  of  Wolfe  and  Montcalm,  who  both 
fell  in  the  great  fight.  Opposite  to  our  hotel  is  the  house 
that  was  the  latter's  headquarters  during  the  siege,  and 
a  short  distance  off  the  one  where  Montgomery,  the 
American  general,  was  laid  out  after  his  unsuccessful 
attack  on  the  place  in  1775. 

Well,  by  this  time,  I  think,  we  have  driven  through 
most  of  the  principal  streets  in  the  upper  town,  and  seen 
some  fine  buildings,  and  now  we  emerge  through  the 
St.  John's  gate,  and  on  to  the  renowned  Plains  of  Abraham; 
to  our  left  the  grim  citadel — which  we  had  not  time  to 
visit — and  in  front  and  around  us  the  scene  of  the  great 
battle,  but  now  covered  with  farms,  houses  and  villas. 
We  were  soon  standing  on  the  spot  where  Wolfe,  the  Vic- 
tor, fell ;  it  is  marked  by  a  column  surmounted  with  mili- 
tary trophies,  and  an  inscription  recording  the  fact.  I 
have  called  it  a  great  battle,  not  from  the  number  of 
men  engaged  or  that  were  slain,  but  from  its  results, 
which  left  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  masters  of  the  continent 

19 


290        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

of  America  from  the  frozen  North  to  Florida,  and  from 
one  sea  to  another. 

I  hardly  know  how  to  account  for  it,  but  somehow  or 
other  the  story  of  this  fight  excited  my  imagination  in  my 
boyjjood  more,  I  think,  than  that  of  any  other  I  had  read 
of ;  perhaps  from  the  glamour  of  Indian  warfare  about  it, 
combined  with  the  daring  of  Wolfe's  deed,  and  the  fact 
that  both  generals,  victor  and  vanquished,  fell  in  the  action, 
Montcalm  dying  on  the  day  after.  And  now  here  we 
stood  on  the  spot  I  had  so  often  wished  to  see,  with  a 
grand  prospect  around  us  and  an  exhilarating  breeze  sweep - 
*  ing  across  the  plain.  No  wonder  the  brave  fellows  fought 
well  after  their  arduous  climb  and  with  no  means  of  retreat 
left  to  them,  if  they  had  such  a  day  as  this. 

Having  enjoyed  the  scene  as  long  as  time  would  admit, 
we  turned  to  our  left,  crossing  the  battle-field  in  rear  of  the 
citadel  and  beginning  the  descent  from  the  breezy  upland 
down  to  the  river  by  a  steep  and  winding  road  cut  along 
the  side  of  Wolfe's  Cove. 

Shall  I  tell  you  something  of  the  fight?  Well,  to  begin, 
the  British  army  had  been  encamped  for  about  three 
months  on  the  Isle  of  Orleans,  nearly  opposite  the  city, 
the  brave  and  vigilant  Montcalm  being  ever  on  the  watch 
to  defeat  their  ends,  when  Wolfe,  having  by  some  means 
discovered  the  place  that  now  bears  his  name,  with  a  sort 
of  goat-track  leading  up  its  side  and  but  feebly  defended 
above,  conceived  the  desperate  plan  of  surprising  it  by  a 
night  attack,  driven  no  doubt  to  this  conclusion  by  the 
approach  of  winter.  Accordingly  after  midnight  of  Sep- 
tember 13th,  1759,  the  British  forces  embarked  on  their 
desperate  enterprise,  and  with  muffled  oars  and  in  silence 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         291 


dropped  on  the  tide  to  their  destination,  but  not  without 
being  challenged  by  the  French  sentries  and  averting  their 
suspicions  by  an  answer  in  their  own  tongue.  'Tis  related 
of  Wolfe  that  while  in  the  boat  in  conversation  with  some 
of  his  staff  on  the  evanescence  of  military  fame,  he  is  said 
to  have  remarked  that  u  he  would  rather  be  the  author  of 
'  Gray's  Elegy  in  a  Country  Churchyard  '  than  win  a  great 
victory."  Little  did  he  know  then  that  before  another 
night  he  should  gain  one  that  would  immortalize  him  to 
all  time.  Landing  in  silence  "  they  commenced  the  diffi- 
cult ascent,  supporting  themselves  by  the  boughs  and 
shrubs  that  skirted  the  narrow  path.  The  Canadian  guard 
on  the  summit  gave  way  after  a  few  shots,  the  road  to 
Quebec  was  gained,  and  when  day  dawned  Wolfe  and  his 
army,  inspirited  by  their  success,  stood  on  the  Plains  of 
Abraham."  Being  unsupported  by  cannon,  although  in 
the  rear  of  the  fortress,  Montcalm  determined  to  attack 
them.  The  fight  was  short  but  bloody,  and  the  result  you 
know.  Somewhere  while  in  England,  I  am  not  sure  where, 
for  we  had  seen  so  many  paintings,  but  I  think  at  Hamp- 
ton Court,  we  saw  Benjamin  West's  celebrated  picture  of 
the  death  of  Wolfe.  How  vividly  it  returned  to  mem- 
ory now  you  can  imagine,  notwithstanding  the  difference 
of  its  accessories  and  our  surroundings. 

To  return  to  our  story:  On  reaching  the  beginning  of 
the  descent  what  a  beautiful  view  met  our  eyes  !  Far  below 
was  the  shining  river — hitherto  hidden  by  the  height ;  we 
were  above  it — woods  and  hills,  and  down  the  path  we  K' 
were  pursuing  its  sides  were  ablaze  with  the  autumn 
glories  of  an  American  landscape — sumach,  maple,  beech 
and  other  trees  unknown  to  us,  resplendent  in  their  liver- 


292        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

ies  of  gold,  crimson,  scarlet,  amber  and  all  their  inter- 
mediate shades,  blending  one  into  the  other.  I  had 
alighted  through  the  steepness  of  the  descent  and  to  ease 
the  horses;  when  near  the  foot,  being  engaged  in  gathering 
some  of  the  brilliant  leaves,  a  lady  accosted  us  and  in- 
vited us  into  the  grounds  of  a  beautiful  house  close  to  the 
river,  with  a  fine  cascade  falling  into  them  from  the  ele- 
vated land  above,  where  we  completed  our  collection. 

Our  return  route  lay  along  the  river's  banks,  past  tim- 
ber yards,  where  vessels  were  loading  and  vast  rafts  of 
spars,  lumber,  etc.,  moored  to  its  sides,  through  narrow 
streets  of  squalid,  decaying  wooden  houses  built  along  the 
foot  of  the  great,  cliff  surmounted  by  the  citadel.  Its 
steep  sides  are  here  and  there  scored  by  fissures  down 
which  water  was  trickling,  and  in  places  mounds  of  shaly- 
rock,  detached  by  action  of  the  elements,  were  heaped  up. 
In  one  place  a  large  board,  half  way  up  the  precipice,  with 
the  inscription,  "  Here  Montgomery  fell,"  marks  the  spot 
where  that  unfortunate  American  general  met  his  death 
in  the  unsuccessful  attack  on  the  place  in  1775.  "  Little 
wonder !  "  you  involuntarily  exclaim  ;  the  only  marvel  is 
how  any  man,  brave  though  he  were  to  the  verge  of  fool- 
hardiness,  could  have  had  the  temerity  to  dare  such  a  feat 
as  attacking  this  fortress,  unreduced  by  siege,  or  how  he 
could  have  got  men  to  follow  him  unless  assured  of  the 
cowardice  of  its  defenders  or  treachery  within  the  gates. 

After  driving  for  some  distance  along  the  lower  streets 
of  the  town  we  returned  by  a  circuitous  route,  through 
the  open  space  whereon  the  Roman  Catholic  Cathedral  is 
built,  to  our  hotel.  The  cathedral  is  a  spacious  building, 
with  no  great  pretensions  to  beauty  of  design ;  it  looks 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         293 


vast  in  the  interior  and  has  in  front  of  the  high  altar  a 
sort  of  alcove,  resplendent  in  blue  and  gold,  different  from 
anything  I  ever  saw  before.  The  walls  are  adorned  with 
some  fine  paintings,  but  the  effect  of  the  whole  was  chilling 
to  me  for  want  of  worshippers,  only  one  little  girl  coming 
rapidly  up  the  steps,  laying  down  her  basket,  murmuring 
a  short  prayer  at  the  shrine  of  some  favourite  saint,  and 
out  again  into  the  busy  paved  square. 

The  other  "  sights  "  of  Quebec  we  were  forced  to  forego, 
and  so  returned  to  rest  awhile  ere  we  resumed  our 
long  journey.  I  was  awakened  from  a  nap  on  a  sofa  by 
girlish  voices  and  merry  laughter,  to  find  that  the  "  Poly- 
nesian "  had  arrived,  and  many  of  our  fellow  passengers 
come  up  to  the  St.  Louis.  The  storm  of  the  previous 
night  had  detained  them  some  hours,  but  the  course  we 
took  had  enabled  us  to  see  the  town,  arrange  our  business 
matters,  and  be  ready  for  a  start  again. 

Accordingly  at  9:30  p.  m.  we  re-crossed  the  river,  and 
took  the  Grand  Trunk  Railway  for  Montreal.  All  night 
we  rushed  along  at  good  speed  on  this  excellent  line, 
passing  no  doubt  many  towns  of  more  or  less  importance, 
all  lost  to  us,  who  were  making  up  for  the  fatigues  of  the 
former  night  in  profound  sleep. 

Next  morning  brought  a  bright,  clear,  bracing  day, 
with  the  sun  sparkling  on  grass,  trees  and  shrubs— all 
covered  with  the  rime  of  a  hoar  frost — and  on  the  noble 
river,  which  we  crossed  by  the  celebrated  Victoria  bridge, 
and  were  in  the  city  of  Montreal.  This  magnificent  struct- 
ure is  tubular  and  built  of  iron,  resting  on  twenty-four 
piers  of  great  strength  in  order  to  resist  the  weight  of  ice 
in  the  winter  and  spring,  and  with  its  abutments  meas- 


294         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

ures  over  one  and  three-quarter  miles  in  length,  leading 
to  a  railway  station  that  would  be  a  credit  to  any  place. 

The  site  of  this  city — like  that  of  Quebec — was  dis- 
covered by  the  celebrated  Jacques  Cartier,  and  on  his 
first  beholding  the  beautiful  hill  at  whose  foot  and  on 
whose  slope  the  town  is  built,  called  forth  from  him  the 
exclamation,  "  Mont  Royale !"  hence  its  present  name. 
It  is  situated  on  an  island  formed  by  two  branches  of  the 
Ottawa  river  falling  into  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  the  sur- 
rounding scenery  is  very  beautiful  indeed.  The  traveller 
arriving  from  Quebec  cannot  fail  being  struck  with  the 
wonderful  difference  existing  between  the  two  towns  and 
their  inhabitants.  The  former  seems  to  be  quiet,  sleepy, 
unprogressive,  and  satisfied  with  its  lot ;  this  one  young, 
brisk  and  striving,  the  bustle  of  a  busy  people  around 
you,  and  the  English  language — a  sure  sign  of  progress — 
spoken  on  all  sides. 

Longfellow's  "  Evangeline  "  and  "  Psalm  of  Life  "  were 
forcibly  presented  to  my  thoughts  as  I  mentally  com- 
pared the  two  cities.  The  few  streets  our  limited  time 
permitted  us  to  see  were  broad  and  spacious,  containing 
many  noble  buildings  ;  at  the  upper  end  of  one  of  them, 
near  the  government  offices  (which  are  very  fine),  is  the 
Windsor  Hotel,  a  first-rate  hostelry  with  every  modern 
elegance  and  luxury,  where  we  got  an  excellent  breakfast. 
The  view  above  is  bounded  by  the  "  Mountain  " — or 
rather  mountains,  for  there  are  two — of  Jacques  Cartier, 
now  laid  out  with  roads  and  drives  around  and  along 
each,  and  their  sides  adorned  with  many  beautiful  villa 
residences.  The  woods  upon  its  slopes  were  looking 
lovely  in  their  autumn  dress,  the  brilliant  tints  glowing 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        295 

like  fire  amid  the  sombre  pines  in  the  bright  rays  of  the 
morning  sun.  I  am  told  that  along  their  base  the  best 
and  most  luscious  fruit  as  well  as  the  finest  vegetables 
grown  in  Canada  are  produced,  and  I  am  quite  ready  to 
believe  the  statement,  for  I  never  ate  apples  that  could  at 
all  compare  with  some  we  purchased  here,  either  for  juici- 
ness or  delicacy  of  flavour ;  neither  did  I  ever  see  such 
cauliflowers,  you  could  scarcely  put  some  of  them  into  a 
flour-barrel !  Prominent  above  the  town  are  the  towers 
of  the  Roman  Catholic  Cathedral,  said  to  be  the  finest 
ecclesiastical  structure  in  British  America  ;  it  has  also  a 
handsome  Anglican  Cathedral,  and  many  other  fine 
churches  of  different  denominations,  which,  with  much  of 
this  beautiful  city,  we  were  forced  unwillingly  to  forego. 

At  9  o'clock,  hurried  by  the  impatient  screaming  of 
the  locomotive  we  were  oft  again,  our  track  lying  for  the 
most  part  along  the  margin  of  the  shining  river,  whose 
surface  was  enlivened  with  many  craft  of  different  kinds. 
Soon  we  entered  the  Province  of  Ontario,  passing  Kings- 
ton— where  you  embark  to  see  the  Thousand  Isles — and 
many  other  thriving  towns  of  more  or  less  importance, 
with  the  vast  lake  gleaming  bright  on  the  left,  and  to 
your  right  lovely  autumnal  woods  and  a  varied,  charming 
landscape.  This  day's  ride  was  a  perfect  succession  of 
delights,  every  fresh  turn  or  bend  of  the  iron  road  calling 
forth  expressions  of  pleasure  as  some  new  beauty  was 
developed. 

What  wondrous  bodies  of  water  these  vast  American 
lakes  seem  to  a  native  of  the  British  Isles,  who  dignifies 
his  own  small  mountain  tarns  with  the  same  name ;  so 
vast  are  they  that  you  could  almost  put  the  Kingdom  of 


296         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

Great  Britain  into  them  and  yet  not  fill  them  up.  By 
half-past  10  at  night  we  had  reached  the  city  of  Toronto, 
but  nature's  demand  for  sleep  was  so  imperative  that  I 
was  only  aware  of  some  extra  bustle,  a  confusion  of  many 
tongues,  and  gleaming  lights  flashing  to  and  fro. 

Next  morning  found  us  at  Point  Edward,  the  southern 
extremity  of  Lake  Huron,  where  it  empties  itself  by  the  St. 
Clair  river  running  down  towards  Detroit.  What  a  lovely 
morn  it  was  ! — a  gentle  breeze,  just  enough  to  ripple  the 
surface  of  the  lake,  but  scarcely  to  fill  the  sails  of  the  craft 
on  its  broad  bosom  ;  the  rays  of  the  early  sun  glistening 
on  a  landscape  covered  with  hoar-frost,  upon  the  placid 
lake,  the  sails  of  vessels,  and  white  shaft  of  the  light- 
house. It  was  a  perfect  vision  of  beauty.  Nature  had 
seemingly  done  her  best  to  make  all  things  look  fair,  but 
man's  performances  were  mean  and  sordid  in  the  extreme 
by  comparison,  and  I  was  astounded  to  find  so  poor 
accommodations  and  conveniences  at  the  terminus  of  an 
important  line.  While  waiting  here  for  the  arrival  of 
another  train  we  got  a  rough  but  plentiful  breakfast,  and 
then  were  ferried — cars  and  all — across  the  St.  Clair  river 
into  the  State  of  Michigan,  United  States  of  America. 

Now  occurred  the  most  vexatious  incident  of  our  whole 
journey,  which  I  will  relate  as  briefly  as  I  can,  in  order 
to  put  you  on  your  guard  against  a  similar  accident.  The 
agent  irom  whom  I  purchased  our  tickets  in  Quebec  had 
told  me  that  on  this  morning  our  baggage  would  be 
examined  by  the  customs  officers  at  Fort  Gratiot,  on 
entering  the  United  States.  While  crossing  the  river  they 
came  on  board  and  looked  over  our  hand-baggage,  I  sup- 
posing they  would  overhaul  the  remainder  when  we  got 


OUR  PILGRIMA&E  TO  THE  OLD   WORLD.        297 

to  the  above-named  place,  for  a  sign-board  at  our  landing 
proclaimed  it  to  be  Port  Huron.  Being,  perhaps,  too 
much  interested  in  the  sights  and  scenes  around  us,  I  did 
not  trouble  about  the  matter  till  off  we  went  again  and 
shortly  passed  a  station  with  Fort  Gratiot  written  on  its 
front,  in  (to  me)  astoundingly  big  letters,  and  the  engine 
increasing  in  speed  every  minute.  Seeking  our  porter  I 
asked  where  our  baggage  would  be  examined,  and  received 
a  reply  that  it  was  all  over,  and  that  Port  Huron  and 
Fort  Gratiot  were  "  all  the  same,  sah  !"  On  searching  in 
the  baggage-car,  he  came  back  with  the  intelligence  that 
ours  was  left  behind,  detained  by  the  customs  authori- 
ties. Here  was  a  pretty  fix,  our  time  limited,  baggage 
lost,  and  we  forced  to  push  on  at  all  hazards.  From  the 
first  station  our  conductor  telegraphed  back  to  forward  it 
to  Council  Bluffs,  and  on  our  arrival  in  Chicago  that 
night,  an  hour  behind  time,  and  therefore  losing  the  train 
we  had  hoped  to  go  on  by,  I  repeated  the  telegram  both 
from  baggage  depot  and  the  hotel,  paying  for  return 
message,  and  yet  got  no  answer.  Vexed  and  dispirited 
we  retired  to  rest,  but  not  to  much  sleep,  at  the  Grand 
Pacific,  a  vastly  more  comfortable  and  quiet  house  than 
the  Palmer,  where  we  stayed  on  our  former  visit. 

Morning  found  me  on  the  alert  again  and  going  from 
one  office  to  another  in  search  of  information,  but  in  vain. 
At  length,  after  waiting  for  an  hour  for  an  official  who 
never  came,  a  clerk  suggested  that  I  had  better  perhaps 
go  to  the  General  Ticket  and  Passenger  Department  of  the 
Grand  Trunk  Railway,  as  they  were  the  most  likely  to 
help  me.  I  am  afraid  that  after  being  kept  for  so  long 
kicking  my   heels  impatiently,   while    my    interlocutor 


298        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

smoked  or  gossiped  with  his  acquaintances,  I  was  not  as 
grateful  for  his  advice  as  I  ought  to  have  been,  for 
immediately  on  arrival  at  above  offices  I  was  asked  why 
I  had  not  come  previously,  assured  of  their  best  endeav- 
ours to  serve  us,  and  to  rest  satisfied  of  our  things  turning 
up  all  right  in  San  Francisco.  Thankful  for  their  courtesy 
I  left,  with  instructions  that  if  no  other  mode  was  possible 
to  forward  them  in  bond  to  our  destination. 

Now  to  return  to  Fort  Gratiot  and  our  day's  ride 
through  this  grand  State  of  Michigan  :  Despite  the  anxiety 
we  felt  about  our  luggage  we  could  not  but  admire  the 
fine  scenery  we  were  passing  through,  the  many  thriving 
towns  on  our  way,  and  in  some  parts  of  our  route  its 
great  resemblance  to  an  English  landscape.  We  passed 
right  through  one  town  of  apparently  considerable  im- 
portance— I  think  Durand — with  fine  broad  streets  filled 
with  life  and  bustle  and  all  the  attributes  of  a  thriving 
town.  Subsequently  we  passed  Lansing,  capital  of  the 
state,  with  numerous  trim  villa  residences  in  its  suburbs, 
the  dome  of  the  Capitol  or  State  House  gleaming  above 
the  town,  and  a  general  air  of  comfort  and  prosperity 
everywhere. 

The  afternoon  was  overcast,  as  were  our  spirits,  and  I 
fear  we  neither  observed  nor  enjoyed  much  the  remainder 
of  our  journey  to  Chicago,  where,  as  I  told  you,  we  arrived 
an  hour  late,  vexed  at  having  lost  our  train.  As  it  turned 
out  this  was  a  fortunate  circumstance  for  us  after  all,  for 
by  the  delay  which  we  thought  vexatious,  we  at  length 
discovered  the  proper  place  to  apply  to  about  our  mis- 
sing things,  and  through  them  were  put  in  communica- 
tion with  the  chief  office  of  the  Chicago,  Rock  Island  & 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.        299 

Pacific  Railroad  Company,  who  promised  to  aid  us  all 
they  could,  and  furnished  me  with  a  letter  to  their  agent 
at  Council  Bluffs. 

Each  time  that  we  have  visited  this  wonderful  city  of 
Chicago  it  has  been  our  misfortune  to  do  so  under 
untoward  circumstances.  On  our  former  trip  it  was  wet, 
miserable,  muddy  weather,  the  great  lake  lashed  into  fury 
with  a  gale  of  wind,  and  now  the  little  time  we  might 
have  utilized  for  seeing  something  of  it  was  lost  in  racing 
about  through,  I  am  bound  to  admit,  considerable  mud, 
after  our  missing  effects. 

Shortly  after  noon  we  were  off  again  on  above-named 
excellent  line  of  road,  passing  through  the  northern  end  of 
the  State  of  Illinois,  amid  much  varied  park-like  scenery, 
with  fine  woods,  which  have  not  yet  so  fully  assumed 
their  brilliant  dress  as  those  of  Canada.  Many  towns  and 
villages  lie  in  our  route  till  at  7  :30  p.  m.  we  cross  the 
"  Father  of  Waters  "  from  Rock  Island  to  Davenport,  and 
are  in  the  State  of  Iowa.  Apparently  these  towns  are  both 
of  considerable  importance.  As  we  were  kept  here  some 
time  shunting  to  and  fro,  for  to  us  some  inscrutable 
reason,  we  had  ample  time  to  observe  the  many  lights 
of  both  towns  shining  in  their  streets  and  reflected  in  the 
grand  Mississippi.  Off  again  through  a  night  brilliant 
with  stars,  but  not  affording  sufficient  light  to  see  much 
of  our  surroundings,  only  that  they  were  very  fair. 

Half-past  9  o'clock  next  morning,  as  lovely  a  day  as 
heart  could  wish,  found  us  at  Council  Bluffs.  No  intelli- 
gence so  far  as  to  our  lost  trunks,  but  one  little  gleam  of 
satisfaction  in  that  we  found  a  valise  that  had  not  been 
locked  and  could  therefore  be  examined  in  the  baggage 


300        OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

depot.  Here  I  gave  up  my  "  checks  "  to  the  authorities, 
getting  a  receipt  for  them  and  promise  of  a  telegram  at 
Cheyenne,  and  soon  we  were  crossing  the  turbid  Missouri 
river  over  the  grand  bridge  to  Omaha.  This  was  without 
exception  the  most  miserable  day  of  our  long  wanderings 
for  months  past.  The  streets  of  the  town,  ill-paved  and 
uneven,  were  hot,  dry  and  dusty,  and  the  general  unfin- 
ished look  of  the  place  dispiriting.  We  tried  a  ride  into 
the  suburbs  on  the  street  cars  only  to  find  things  worse, 
with  trees  and  shrubbery  looking  dry,  wilted  and  forlorn. 
Add  to  this  my  perturbation  of  spirit  and  a  vile  headache 
that  kept  me  the  greater  part  of  the  day  on  a  bed  at  the 
Paxton  House,  and  you  will  not  wonder  that  our  reminis- 
cences of  Omaha  are  anything  but  pleasant.  No  doubt 
the  town  occupies  a  grand  site  for  trade  and  commerce, 
situated  as  it  is  on  the  banks  of  the  great  river  and  the 
line  of  communication  from  East  to  West,  and  yet  it  did 
not  strike  me  as  being  what  our  American  cousins  call  "  a 
live  town." 

In  the  evening  we  re-crossed  the  river  to  Council  Bluffs, 
and  soon  after  8  o'clock,  glad  to  get  out  of  this  place,  started 
on  our  long  westward  journey. 

The  following  morning  on  the  prairies  was  perfectly 
lovely,  fresh,  clear  and  invigorating,  with  the  erratic  waters 
of  the  North  Platte  flashing  in  silver  light  on  a  network  of 
small  channels.  All  day  long  our  course  lay  over  the  roll- 
ing prairies,  gradually  ascending,  rich  with  dry  grass  and 
herds  of  fat  cattle,  enlivened  occasionally  by  the  smoke 
of  some  lonely  homestead  or  the  white-covered  wagons  of 
an  emigrant  party  going,  ever  as  they  do,  toward  the  set- 
ting sun. 


OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD.         301 


Arrived  at  Cheyenne  we  found  a  telegram,  "Mr.  L's 
luggage  not  turned  up  yet;  will  telegraph  to  Ogden."  So  off 
we  went  again  satisfied  that  we  were  not  forgotten  and 
that  the  railroad  people  would  do  their  best  to  help  us. 

Shortly  after  8  p.  m.  we  were  at  Sherman,  summit  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  felt  as  though  we  were  begin- 
ning our  descent  to  our  own  side  of  the  world. 

Another  fair  day  broke  upon  us,  cold  enough  in  the 
early  morn  to  have  large  icicles  hanging  from  the  water- 
tanks,  but  which  were  soon  melted  in  the  sun's  ardent 
rays.  The  varied  landscape  of  this  day's  route,  with  its 
patches  of  rocky  desert,  bright  bits  of  green  in  vicinity  of 
rivers,  grandeur  of  the  canon  scenery  and  the  snowy 
ranges  of  mountains  north,  south  and  ahead  of  us,  glisten- 
ing in  a  bright  sun,  I  have  told  you  of  before,  so  need  not 
recapitulate. 

Just  before  sundown  we  were  among  the  flourishing 
fields  and  homesteads  of  Mormondom,  arriving  at  Ogden 
as  the  god  of  day  was  glorifying  the  amphitheatre  of 
mountains  with  his  departing  rays  and  making  all  look 
very  fair  indeed.  Here  we  got  a  message,  "  Baggage  all 
right ;   will  come  on  to-night." 

I  think  by  this  time  you  can  understand  what  a  relief 
it  was  to  know  that  our  belongings  would  be  in  San 
Francisco  forty-eight  hours  after  us  ;  so  to  conclude  a 
long  and  to  you  not  very  interesting  episode,  such  was  the 
case,  as  it  arrived  just  two  hours  before  we  sailed  for 
Honolulu,  with  the  locks  forced  off,  tied  up  with  spun 
yarn,  but  all  the  contents  safe. 

Left  this  place  at  7:30  p.  m.  feeling  fortified  by  our  good 
news  to  face  next  day's  travel  over  the  alkali  desolation  of 


302         OUR  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  OLD  WORLD. 

the  great  American  desert.  Fortunately  it  was  cool,  clear 
and  free  from  dust,  as  there  had  been  rain  recently.  All 
day  long  we  journeyed  on,  nothing  to  relieve  the  horrid 
monotony  save  an  occasional  short  stop  at  some  station,  or 
watching,  as  on  our  eastward  route  before,  the  myriads  of 
long-eared  rabbits,  that  inhabit  parts  of  this  sterile  waste, 
sitting  on  their  haunches,  unconcernedly  gazing  at  the 
passing  train  or  bobbing  in  and  out  among  the  sage-brush. 
Night  again  hid  the  glorious  scenery  of  the  Sierra 
Nevada  from  us,  and  ere  day  broke  we  were  descending 
their  western  slopes  through  forests  and  farms,  the  recently- 
shorn  vast  wheat-lands  of  the  latter  looking  red,  parched 
and  dusty.  Breakfasted  at  Sacramento  and  soon  off  once 
more,  coursing  down  the  now  low,  turbid  river.  Ere  noon 
of  October  13th  we  were  in  San  Francisco  again  at  the 
"  Occidental"  and  among  many  familiar  faces,  from  whom 
we  received  kindly  welcome  after  our  long  journey. 


University  of 
Connecticut 

libraries 


